Harry Potter and the Chance for a New Life
by Dens Serpentis
Summary: preHBP HPBtVS Crossover: Harry Potter has defeated Voldemort, but at the cost of his own happiness. In a desperate ploy, Dumbledore sends him to Sunnydale to help Buffy, the Vampire Slayer...ABANDONED
1. The State of Things

Timeline: So, I wrote this after OOtP for Harry Potter, but this fic takes place during his seventh year. The intervening history is explained. As for Buffy, this fic is set after The Wish in the 3rd season, but Faith is not a character.

Summary: Harry Potter has defeated Voldemort, but is now unhappy and adrift. As a desperate measure to try to force him back to life (so to speak), Albus Dumbledore sends him to Sunnydale, CA, the Boca del Inferno (Hellmouth), to help Buffy the Vampire Slayer and co. battle a menacing evil. Probably no Harry/anyone romance, just friendship. No slash.

Author Note: Please leave me a review and some constructive criticism (or just a review, if that's all you have time for!). I'll try to update regularly, but college is rather time-consuming, so I make no promises. I do firmly intend to finish this one, though. I apologize to all of you who've read my other fics that have been abandoned.

Disclaimer: What a surprise! I am neither Joss Whedon, nor J.K. Rowling. I am merely a fan of both, and own no rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One-The State of Things 

Albus Dumbledore, the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat in his office pensively sucking on a lemon drop, gazing into the hypnotizing flames of his often-used fireplace as he absently stroked the brilliant plumage of his phoenix, Fawkes. His melancholy thoughts were focused, as they had often been for the past sixteen years, on young Harry Potter, a wizard more powerful even than he and a boy he loved like the son he never had.

In the year and a half or so since his godfather's tragic death at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had achieved a great many things. Copiously using a time turner in secret, he had trained himself long and hard with one ultimate goal in mind: to defeat Voldemort. He had picked up a great many forbidden or incredibly difficult skills, and his constant training had pushed him to magical majority at an unusually young age, revealing him to have a veritable well of power waiting to be used. Even Dumbledore himself had little knowledge of how much Harry knew and was capable of doing. The defense group that he had formed in his fifth year, the DA, had continued in his sixth and now also seventh years, and the skills of every member in nearly all uses of magic had increased astonishingly. Neville Longbottom had proven himself to be quite an adept wizard, when given a proper wand and sufficient confidence, much to his teachers' shock and Harry's quiet pride.

Nevertheless, despite his growth as both a wizard and leader, Harry had done his best to distance himself from his friends for fear that they would be injured. Of course, Ron and Hermione had had none of that, and had only clung to him tighter the more he tried to pull away.

Ron and Hermione. The thought of those two names always brought mixed feelings to the old wizard. Of course, he was saddened by their deaths. They had been two of the finest students he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. However, he also felt an irrational anger towards the two whose deaths had nearly destroyed the one who was so close to his heart. Harry had not yet begun to recover from their loss, and Dumbledore feared that he never would.

And, of course, at the end of last school year, Harry had done what he had always been destined to do: he had defeated Voldemort, alone, in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by jeering Death Eaters, after participating in and almost single-handedly winning an enormous battle on the grounds of Hogwarts, in which two students and nearly two hundred adults on the side of light had been killed. After his final duel with Voldemort, Harry most assuredly would have died, had Severus Snape not rushed him back to Hogwarts for immediate medical attention, not ready for his worst enemy's son to die just as he was beginning to see what an amazing person he was. Several weeks later, Harry had been back on his feet, his step sure with the confidence of youth, but his eyes haunted by all that he had experienced.

It was a true mark of how loved Harry was by all who knew him that they were more concerned by his obvious depression than gleeful at the final destruction of the most dangerous dark wizard in centuries.

He had not even bothered to protest when he was sent back to the Dursleys over the summer, and it was only Ginny Weasley's concern over his lack of correspondence that had caused Dumbledore to visit Harry at his summer residence and to discover just how completely he had failed Harry. The boy-who-lived, the twice-savior of the wizarding world, had been abused by his muggle relatives, apparently for as long as he had lived with them. It was a wonder that he had ever trusted any adults at all. It was a wonder that he no longer seemed to blame Albus for any of the many tragedies which had befallen him.

Harry had been rushed back to Hogwarts and treated for his various wounds and malnourishment, and then had been allowed to stay at the school for the remainder of the summer holidays, spending most of his days studying in the library or flying, an activity which had never ceased to inspire some joy in the otherwise miserable young man. His behavior had continued similarly into the new school year; although he was now more famous than ever, Harry avoided crowds at all costs. He attended his classes consistently but never volunteered to answer questions or demonstrate. His teachers couldn't really complain, since he passed all of his exams perfectly, having long since learned all the NEWT material. He left the teaching of the DA mostly to the other students, although whenever anyone needed help, he was always there to gently guide them.

Harry seemed to take no pleasure in life, and Dumbledore feared greatly for him.

Suddenly, the fireplace blazed green, surprising Dumbledore from his stupor. His cerulean eyes widened only slightly in surprise, a sign that the Headmaster was truly shocked, since he normally seemed imperturbable, at the sight of Rupert Giles' head in his fireplace.

He knew Rupert from several encounters some time ago, in which he had been acting in his capacity in the Wizenmagot. Rupert had been up on the charges of having summoning a rather nasty demon, a very dangerous form of dark arts. Dumbledore, who firmly believed that everyone deserved a second chance, had voted in favor of Rupert, and had afterward helped him secure a sort of internship position in the Watcher's Council, whose job it was to oversee the Vampire Slayer. The last he had heardof Rupert, he had risen to the prestigious position as Watcher for the Slayer three years ago.

Dumbledore smiled slightly at his old friend. "Rupert! It is good to see you, dear boy," he effused.

Giles smiled slightly in return. "Hello, Albus," he replied. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has. Three years, I do believe. Oh, forgive me my manners! Would you like a lemon drop?" he proffered the tin which held his self-replenishing supply of candies.

"I think not, Albus," Giles said. "Thanks anyway."

Dumbledore frowned briefly, since he found that conversations in which his visitors refused his lemon drops were invariably more serious and worrisome than those in which the sweets were consumed.

"I presume this is not a social call?" Dumbledore asked, looking closely at the other man over his half-moon glasses.

"I'm afraid not," Giles sighed. "I need your help. You see..."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly as Giles explained the situation, and, for the first time in a long time, the smallest of twinkles began to form in his eyes. "I think I have the perfect wizard for your problem," he said, stroking his long white beard as he cemented his plans in his mind. Yes, this could be the very thing to get Harry back into the world of the living.

* * *

Seventeen year old Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater-of-You-Know-Who, Head Boy, and Order of Merlin, First Class, sat on top of the Astronomy Tower, his legs dangling fearlessly over the precipice. His faithful owl Hedwig rested on his shoulder, a comforting warmth in the cool Autumn breeze, and coiled tightly around his wrist was a brightly colored coral snake. His piercing emerald eyes stared vaguely out into the darkness of the night, seeming to focus on the dim outline of the Forbidden Forest, illuminated by starlight. 

His senses, hyper-alert after all of his training, easily picked up the sound of someone approaching long before they actually arrived. He could tell by the sound of the footsteps and the swish of the robes that it was Snape intruding on his solitude, as always.

Usually, he respected the man for having had more than Gryffindor bravery for the past few decades, being a spy in Voldemort's ranks, a risk that even a foolhardy Gryffindor wouldn't take. Other times, like now, he hated the man for having saved his life.

"Potter," Snape spat his name with less vitriol than he had before Harry's sixth year. "Still believe yourself to be above the rules, do you? It's past curfew."

Harry smiled vaguely at this reminder of the encounters he had used to have with this man, in which he had always been filled with righteous anger at the man's baseless accusations and ruthless insults. Now, he felt little more than a disconnected sort of amusement.

"I'm Head Boy this year," he reminded the professor, unnecessarily. "I'm allowed out past curfew."

Snape sneered. "And what are you doing? I doubt you'll find any late-night rule breakers heading to the Forbidden Forest."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, as if in prayer. "No, I probably won't," he agreed quietly. It was true. After what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, even the most mischievous had given it the wide berth its name had always suggested. He sighed. "Was there something you wanted, Professor?"

In the past, Snape would have bristled at such an impertinent question. Now, though, it was his world-weary tone, not his words, which caught his attention and held his tongue.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you."

Harry inclined his head slightly to show that he had heard and understood the request, but stayed staring into the night for several more minutes before reluctantly standing. "Go on, Hedwig," he said to his friend, giving her a slight boost to help her fly off.

As he turned to walk away, Snape fell in beside him. Much as he often did, Snape found himself marveling at the predatory grace in Harry's stride. It gave him a sense of poise and authority, and Snape couldn't remember exactly when the previously unsure and shy boy had picked up the trick. They were silent for the duration of the short journey, except for a murmured "Sacrifice," from Snape to the stone gargoyles guarding the entranceway to Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore's already-melancholy face seemed to fall into even greater sadness when he saw Harry, as it always did at the sight of his pale, gaunt face and the deep purple bruises under his eyes. He mustered a small welcoming smile and gestured for them to sit down.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked kindly.

Harry blinked. "I'm fine," he responded reflexively. Snape gave a sort of choked laugh.

"How are your classes going?"

"They're fine." _Hmph_.

"And the DA?"

"It's fine." _Cough_.

There was a pause.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what is it you want of me, Professor?" Harry asked, his brilliant green eyes intently probing Dumbledore's blue ones.

Dumbledore frowned. How best to explain to Harry what was to be done. "Well, Harry, I can't help but feel that Hogwarts has not been helping you to recover from everything that happened last year," he began carefully.

A muscle in Harry's jaw visibly clenched. "I'm fine," he insisted. Snape snorted.

"Professor Snape is correct, I'm sorry to say, Harry," Dumbledore gently argued. "It pains me to see you this unhappy, my dear boy."

Harry stared at him for a long moment in disbelief. Finally, he closed his eyes and tilted back his head. An animalistic choking noise escaped his throat, and it appeared for a moment that he was going to burst out laughing. He took several deep breaths, and when he opened his eyes again they were brimming with more emotions than Dumbledore had seen from them in a long time.

"What do you want from me?" Harry demanded. "I've done my duty, don't you see! I've fulfilled my purpose, I've killed Voldemort, I've been your weapon. I've given you everything that I had. Everything! I don't regret it, Professor. We all did what we had to do. I'm content enough. Don't you dare take that away from me with your false platitudes and your useless questions."

Dumbledore recoiled from Harry's tirade as if he had been struck. Was that truly what Harry thought? That he was only Dumbledore's tool, so easily discarded once he had been used?

"Harry," he said sadly, "you cannot truly believe that. There are so many people who care about you: just Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Defeater-of-Voldemort, or whatever else the rest of the world is calling you."

Harry glared at him coldly. "All of the people who have loved me have died for me," he hissed. "There is no one left."

Here, Snape could no longer restrain himself. "You could not possibly be so blind!" he exclaimed. "Of course there are people who care about you, you foolish brat. What about the Weasleys, who practically adopted you? What about Longbottom and the rest of your blasted DA? What about Lupin? Your teachers? Do you think yourself so much above them that they are nothing next to your pigheaded greatness?"

"Severus..." Albus murmured reprovingly. It was, after all, his fault that Harry had such low self-esteem.

Nevertheless, Harry's reaction to the verbal assault was telling. He breathed deeply several times as if trying to restrain himself from some kind of outburst. Through gritted teeth, he repeated, "I ask again, what do you want from me? I think I'm entitled to a life of misery, if that's what I choose."

"Perhaps you do, at that," Dumbledore acknowledged sadly. He could deny Harry nothing. "However, I would like to see if we could give you another chance at a better life, if you are willing." Harry did not respond affirmatively or negatively, simply looked at him with the blank gaze to which he had become so accustomed, so he plowed on. "I have a friend who lives in California, the current Watcher of the Slayer Buffy Summers. They are currently experiencing some apocalyptic activity, and have requested that I send a wizard of above-average power to help them. I think that spending some time in a different environment might be good for you."

Harry stared at his Headmaster incredulously. "You want to send me to fight another war? Your good little soldier-puppet who marches to whatever tune you play? God!" He pressed both hands firmly on either side of his head, as if trying to force out his errant thoughts. "You have me so very well-trained. It must have been a carefully planned formula, to instill me with just the right amount of obedience, a large dose of need to do the right thing, and a fair helping of brainless bravery." He laughed mockingly. "Well-done, Professor," he said. "Truly, a bloody capital job. Of course I'll go. Wherever I'm needed, there I'll be, right? Boy-Who-Lived to the rescue and all that?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice pained, "I'm not trying to use you as a toy or puppet as you seem to think. I imagine an auror could handle this job just fine. I would, however, prefer that you go, since I hope this experience might be beneficial for you."

"Whatever," Harry said, clearly not believing a word he said. "I already said I'd go. When do I leave?"

"You'll leave tomorrow morning, at 10 o'clock. However, there is also the matter of a chaperone." Harry stared at him as if not believing what he was hearing. "Now, I know that you can take care of yourself, Harry, but school rules insist that an adult accompany you on any trips you take off Hogwarts grounds. I've chosen Professor Snape to be your guardian. I'm sure you'll get on smashingly."

Harry just looked at him for another long moment, while Snape looked surprised and a bit upset. Eventually, Harry nodded resignedly. "Fine," he said. "Are we apparating?"

Both the older wizards looked surprised by this question. "Apparating across an ocean, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Impossible!"

He blinked. "I've done it before."

The professors were speechless for a moment absorbing this information before Dumbledore decided to end the decidedly awkward silence. After all, it was hardly the most exceptional thing Harry had ever done. "Fawkes will transport you and Professor Snape. You should pack for an extended stay."

"Of course," Harry said coldly, rising to his feet. He gave them a perfunctory nod before spinning on his heels and leaving the office.

After he had left, Snape turned to face his employer, confusion evident on his face. "Why on earth are you sending me along as Potter's chaperone? No one would ever complain if you broke this school rule for him, and it's hardly as though I could protect him from anything. And what about my classes?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Endorsing the breaking of a rule for a student, Severus? Tsk tsk," he said teasingly. Seeing the serious expression on his Potion Master's face, his brief moment of levity fled. "To answer the second question first, I will cover your classes for you while you're gone. You may have forgotten, but I was quite skilled at Potions, once." Snape snorted again at that understatement. After all, Dumbledore was well-known for having discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood. "As to your role as a chaperone, I don't expect you to do much to protect him in a combat situation, Severus," he confessed. "We both know that Harry's proven himself time and again. I'm sending you along for one reason only."

"And what's that?"

Dumbledore sighed for what he was sure was the hundredth time that day, and looked away from his friend's obsidian gaze. "Bring him home, Severus," he confessed quietly. "For I fear that, if given the choice, Harry will decide to leave this place or this earth altogether."

* * *

Harry finished packing his trunk within minutes of having started. He looked at the faithful trunk which he had had ever since his first year at Hogwarts; in it were the few possessions which he had gathered over the years: his trusty Firebolt, no longer the fastest broom on the market, his album with photographs of his parents and Sirius, and his invisibility cloak. Around his neck he wore, as always, a beautiful gold locket, which when opened held a miniature picture of Ron on one side and Hermione on the other. They had worn similar lockets with pictures of him. Oh, how he missed them. 

He placed the Sword of Gryffindor in its sheath across his back, then secured one of Slytherin's Daggers at his belt, putting the other in his shoe. His trusty wand-holster, impervious to most hexes and charms, was tightly attached to his right wrist. He knew that he gave off a rather martial appearance, but he had long since given up any care for propriety in exchange for practicality.

He hoisted the trunk easily, not bothering to use magic to make it lighter. He looked one last time around the large, nicely furnished Head Boy room he had been given, with its now-bare walls and a simple bed he had transfigured from an overly-luxurious one. This place had never been home for him.

He had given Hedwig two letters to deliver for him in his absence. One was a letter to Neville instructing him to take over the DA as its leader. The other was a letter to Ginny and by extension to the entire Weasley clan, once again blaming himself for the death of their youngest son and apologizing profusely while admitting that he could never be forgiven. No such letter had been sent to Hermione's family, since her only living relatives, her parents, had died only hours after she, tortured to death by Voldemort in a gruesome episode which Harry had been forced to watch in its entirety via his scar.

He shook his head forcefully in a fruitless attempt to rid his mind of these thoughts. Perhaps Dumbledore was right; perhaps leaving Hogwarts and going someplace different for a time would help him.

He took a detour on his way to the Headmaster's office, stopping at Professor McGonagall's office. He knocked politely and listened for her muffled greeting before entering.

"Mr. Potter," she said, sounding unsurprised.

"Good morning, Professor," he said. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has informed you that I'll be leaving on a trip of uncertain duration today. I was wondering how I should plan on keeping up with my studies while I'm gone."

McGonagall looked closely at him for a long moment, obviously taking in the sad sight of his bedraggled state. Although she had never been particularly close to Harry-she endeavored to keep a professional distance from all her students-she took her duties as Head of House very seriously. For that reason, she was incredibly proud of the young man in front of her for all that he had achieved. For that reason also, it had pained her to see how poorly Harry was coping with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat. While she wasn't sure that she agreed with Albus that sending him to another country to fight vampires would help Harry, she knew that something had to be done, and she was willing to agree to drastic measures, if necessary.

"Tell me, Potter," she said, her strict features softened by the slightest of smiles, "Just how far along in the NEWT studies are you?"

He shrugged. "Fairly well along, I suppose," he answered noncommittally.

She pointed at her desk. "Could you conjure a desk like mine?" she asked. At his nod, she ordered, "Then do so."

He lifted his wand gracefully, and with a murmured incantation and a flick of his wrist, a second, identical desk appeared, complete with the documents which were strewn on the original and the topaz tabby figurine which she had picked up whilst traveling years ago.

She nodded thoughtfully, not appearing at all impressed by the extraordinary feat. "Now vanish it." He did so. "Mr. Potter, have you ever brewed the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus Lupin?"

He nodded warily. "Once, last year, when Professor Snape was in the Hospital Wing."

She picked up a crystal ball from one of her shelves, and held it out towards him. "Look into the crystal ball and tell me the future, Potter."

He took it from her, a perplexed expression on his face, and looked into the ball for only the briefest of moments before saying, "This is complete bollocks, Professor. Unless you want me to predict my death like I always do in Trelawney's class, I don't know what to say."

She smiled faintly. "While I would prefer that you use language suitable in a school, I agree completely. Well, Mr. Potter, I think that we both know that you could take your NEWTs right now and pass all of them with flying colors, save perhaps Divination." He inclined his head in silent agreement. "Well, then," she said briskly, "I hardly think we need to burden you with unnecessary work while you are gone. Just try to keep in practice, won't you, and we can cover anything you might have missed when you return."

"Thank you, Professor," he said. He turned to leave, and was almost out the door when he heard her voice calling his name. He turned back.

"Do try to have some fun," she told him. He looked at her for another long moment before he strode away, letting the door close behind him with a gentle _click_.

* * *

Harry and Snape arrived at the gargoyles at exactly the same moment, precisely on time. Harry noticed that Snape didn't appear to be carrying a trunk, and guessed that he must have shrunk it and put it in one of the pockets in his voluminous robes. 

"Sacrifice," Harry whispered, his voice breaking on the word. They ascended the moving stairs to the office.

"Severus! Harry!" Dumbledore said jovially in greeting. "Just on time, as always, I see. Now, remember, Fawkes will take you where you need to go; you're looking for a Mr. Rupert Giles. I wish you luck, dear boys."

Fawkes flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder, sending a peaceful feeling of warmth throughout his body. He reached up to pet the lovely fire-bird once, and Fawkes trilled in response, a beautiful sound that he could never tire of hearing.

Then the two men, bird, and trunk disappeared in a flash of bright light. It was only after the light had completely dissipated that Dumbledore allowed his fake smile to fall from his face, the familiar look of sadness overcoming his aged features. "Come back to me soon, my son," he murmured, but there was no one to hear his words.

TBC

* * *

Did you like it? Did you not? Either way, please leave a review!


	2. Welcome to Sunnyhell

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

* * *

Chapter Two: Welcome (Or Lack Thereof) to Sunnyhell 

Unlike travel by portkey, travel by phoenix fire caused no nausea or disorientation. Instead, one moment you were one place, the next you were somewhere else. So it was that in a blink of an eye, Harry and Snape found themselves transported from the cheery interior of Albus Dumbledore's office to a dark hallway in what appeared to be a somewhat bedraggled public high school. Fawkes gave them a single chirp of reassurance before disappearing back to England.

They stood for a moment in silence before Harry ventured the question, "Did you know we were going to be dumped in a school?"

Snape just sneered.

Harry sighed. "Let's just find our host, shall we? Fawkes wouldn't have left us too far from where we're supposed to be." He stopped to shrink his trunk and leave it in his pocket, not wanting to bother with dragging it around. He stood still for a long moment, head cocked to one side and six senses (including magical sense) straining for some indication of where to go. Finally, he turned to go down one hallway. "There're voices coming from this direction," he informed his so-far-useless companion before he strode in the direction he had indicated.

After several twists and turns-Harry found the American high schools almost more impossible to navigate than Hogwarts, with all her changing staircases and fake doors-they found themselves directly outside of what appeared to be a library, from which several voices were being raised in contention.

"I don't see why we need another stuffy Brit to come do our work for us," complained a young female voice.

"Yeah! The Scooby Gang has been doing just fine on its own in the past few years," a male voice agreed.

"I don't know...I'm rather excited about meeting someone who can actually do magic whenever he wants," a more timid female inserted.

"Meeting some kind of mumbo-jumbo user is one thing, Will," the first voice argued. "But that doesn't mean that we have to work with him. Let's just tell him to go home...if he ever actually gets here, that is. What do you think, Oz?"

A monotone voice responded, "I have to agree with the redhead. I'd be interested to see what a wizard could do."

An aggrieved, thankfully British, male voice stated tiredly, "We are not just going to send him back to England after coming all this way to help us, Buffy. Loathe as you may be to admit it, we may need help against this demon. An old friend of mine is sending this wizard to help us, and I trust Albus Dumbledore's judgment implicitly. Maybe you'll even like whoever they send."

There was a _hmph_ing noise, before the leader of the teenagers said sullenly, "Fine. But I'm not promising to be nice to another tweed-clad old guy who has an obsession with tea."

At that, Harry found himself doing something he hadn't done since Ron and Hermione's death-struggling to hold back genuine laughter. A strangled noise escaped his throat, and as Snape turned to glare at him they both heard the ominous sound of complete silence from the other side of the door.

"Looks like we've been found out," Harry drawled with an amused smile. He gestured toward the swinging doors. "Why don't you impress them with your dramatic entrance?" he suggested.

Snape scowled, but complied, and if he hadn't know better, Harry would have thought that he saw a glimmer of mischief in his teacher's eyes. The professor strode forth, flinging the doors open with an impressive _bang!_ and he strode through the doorway with the bat-like swirling of his robes for which he was infamous.

And promptly threw up a shielding spell as a crossbow bolt and two knives came flying at him, deflecting them to either side of him.

Harry wished he could see the faces of the kids on the other side of the door, since he judged by the silence on the other side that they were rather shocked by both Snape's sudden appearance and the apparent ease with which he had rendered their weapons useless.

Finally, the main girl's voice broke the silence. "Uh, guys? My spidey sense isn't tingling. I don't think that's a vampire."

Giles' voice came floating out with an embarrassed, "Oh, dear..."

Harry could hear the sneer in Snape's voice as he coldly informed them, "I am Professor Severus Snape, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You did request a wizard, did you not?"

* * *

Buffy was feeling a bit embarrassed. Just a bit. But, really, why should she? What kind of idiot just barges through a door in a school in the middle of the night, anyways? One who's looking to be impaled, that's what kind of person. Besides, he was certainly doing a very good vampire impression, and those robes? So never in fashion. It was entirely his fault that she had assaulted him. 

Of course, it was even more embarrassing that he had so easily deflected her crossbow. Magic was creepy, if you asked her. Give her a stake and a vampire and some good ol' fashioned martial arts any day.

This-this-creep was supposed them avert Apocalypse number 3! This was _way_ worse than a tweed-clad tea addict! She could tell by the disgusted looks on her friends' faces that they felt the same.

She noticed that even Giles was having difficulty concealing his shock. _Maybe we'll even like him indeed_, she thought spitefully. _Ha!_

"Er...well...uh, welcome, Professor Snape. We're glad to have your help against the demon Odimin-"

"I care nothing for your ridiculous demon," Mr. Ugly said. "Please have the decency not to bore me with your tales of woe." Buffy found a rather forbidding frown forming on her face. No one interrupted Giles but her! And, "their ridiculous demon"? Did he _know_ how many times she had saved his sorry British arse from a fate worse than death?

Giles blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Why exactly are you here, then?"

Snape gave a slow, rather evil smile, and Buffy suddenly had the feeling that the joke was on them. "I'm here to take care of him," he replied, jerking his thumb back to point behind him at a young, thin boy who had probably been there all along but who they had failed to notice in their preoccupation with the older (way uglier) wizard.

She used her Slayer skills to give the boy an ultra-fast once-over.

Well. This one certainly had potential.

He looked about the same age as her, though he was only slightly taller than her admittedly petite height. He was too thin, and his physique looked a bit fragile, but his face was handsomely shaped, brilliant, serious emerald green eyes making up for the gauntness of his face. His black hair was utterly wild, a style that seemed lame on many boys who tried to do it to look cool, but which looked perfectly natural framing this one's features. Cordelia would be drooling if she were to see him. Despite his apparent fragility, he comfortably wore a sword across his back and a dagger at his hip with an ease that suggested many hours of practice. Definitely a hottie.

She shook herself. It was all well and good for him to be cute, but did this little kid actually think he could help her save the world? Willow and Xander already provided all the sidekick support she needed, without adding another basically skill-less one to the mix.

Giles was frowning in thought, and Buffy thought that he was probably trying to decide which of the two wizards were worse.

Xander summed up her thoughts when he asked, "Kinda short, isn't he?" He reflexively cringed back a bit when the boy's haunted gaze made contact with his own.

"Fortunately for the fate of the world, your opinion of me based on my size matters not a whit," he said coolly. He approached Giles, moving with predatory grace, and extended his hand. "Harry Potter," he said curtly.

Buffy watched with interest as Giles and Willow reacted to this bit of news. Giles' eyes widened in shock as he stared at the extended hand for a long time, apparently unable to move, before his gaze moved up to the boy's forehead and the tousled black hair which covered it. Harry gave a small, unhappy sigh before using his other hand to brush the errant hair off his forehead, revealing a scar peculiarly shaped like a lightning bolt.

When the scar was revealed, Willow said, "Oh my God," and began taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

Giles still hadn't taken the boy's hand, and Buffy's Slayer instincts came to the fore, deciding that he must be an enemy who had frightened Giles and Willow into a stupor.

She quickly drew a stake before pouncing at him, intending to have him fully at her mercy before he even knew what was happening. To her horror, before she could even move to attack him she felt her limbs become completely stiff as if held by an invisible force, leaving her completely unable to move.

Giles blinked and seemed to come out of his disorientation when he saw that his slayer had been hit by a _petrificus__ totalus_. "What...?" he asked, looking at the boy-dear god, Harry Potter, in the flesh-in confusion.

"Your slayer was about to attack me," Potter said wryly. "I apologize, but I rather like having my heart in one piece, and not skewered on a piece of wood by a girl whom I came here to help."

"Oh! Er...well, will you release her now, please?" Giles was a bit worried, as Xander seemed quite incensed by what had just happened, and looked as though he were about to try a frontal attack to defend her.

"Perhaps after you explain to her that I'm not an enemy, and why exactly you reacted to my name the way you did," Harry demurred.

"Capital idea," Giles agreed before turning to his very angry, still frozen slayer. "I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression, Buffy," he said. "I was just so shocked to find myself suddenly in the presence of Harry Potter..." He got a rather goofy grin on his face. "I mean, _Harry Potter_, it's simply amazing..." Although she wasn't able to move any of her facial muscles, Buffy's glare somehow became much angrier as Giles rambled. "Oh, right, sorry. Willow! You know what I'm talking about, why don't you explain!"

Willow blinked at being put on the spot, paling a little under the sudden scrutiny of everyone in the room, including the famous Harry Potter.

"Uh...uh...Well, Mr. Potter-"

"Just Harry, please," Harry sighed. "Look, I'll tell her, alright? It's no big deal really; a while back I defeated this powerful dark wizard who'd been terrorizing me and the people I cared about for years, and now everyone's temporarily in awe. I'm just a normal wizard, though, really. _Finite Incantem_."

Snape made a disgruntled sound at that claim, along with what sounded like a muttered, "And I thought he was arrogant!"

Buffy experimentally moved her arms and legs before settling the full force of the Buffy glare at the boy. "I don't care if you're the Prime Minister of England!" she snarled. "Never do that to me again!"

"Actually, Buffy," Giles tentatively interjected. "It's more like having someone of substantially more importance than the President come to visit. I'd almost think you could consider it an honor that he hexed you."

Harry growled, "It most certainly is not an honor! And I'm really not that important!" Giles and Willow looked unconvinced. He sighed. "Look, if we're going to be working together, we need to make a few things clear. First, I absolutely despise hero-worship. I want to be treated just like everyone else. Second, I don't take well to attacks-I've trained myself to respond lethally to them. If you do attempt to injure me, I don't know if I can stop myself from seriously harming you."

"Whatever." Buffy rolled her eyes. She wanted to get out of here. "Giles, I'm going to go patrolling. You can deal with Nancy-boy here."

"Actually," Harry interjected, "I'll accompany you. I will need to see how you work and what kind of enemies you face here in Sunnydale."

Her eyes widened in outrage. "There's no way I'm letting you come with! I can't be bothered to take care of you."

Snape cut in, "Mr. Potter is quite capable of taking care of himself against any manner of dark creatures, Ms. Summers. I rather think it would be you slowing him down."

"Yeah?" she asked disbelievingly. "How many vamps has he slain?" She smirked in anticipation at being able to show the kid that he wasn't nearly as cool as he thought.

Snape shot a glance at Harry, and, seeing that his jaw was clenched and he was clearly not intending to answer, answered for him: "I believe that last year he wiped out ninety percent of the vampires in the U.K. with a single, one-use spell which he designed," he said in his silky voice.

Buffy gaped.

"Professor," Harry said in a warning tone.

"Of course, that was only after he led an army of children against a werewolf attack, and emerged victorious with only two children dead and one infected."

Willow flinched, and her eyes darted to her boyfriend, Oz, who was a werewolf and was always afraid that he would injure someone while in his animalistic state.

"Snape," Harry said angrily.

"And then after he killed those vampires, he faced the most powerful dark wizard ever to live in a duel and won."

"That's enough, Severus," Harry snarled, the menace in his voice not hidden, and the antipathy in his eyes blatant. "You have never been one to sing my praises before, and I'll not allow you to use them now as an attack against someone whose ignorance is justified. Ms. Summers, I apologize for my chaperone. Now, I will accompany you on your patrol tonight, and perhaps we can take each other's measure in actual combat situations, rather than relying upon rumors and hearsay, hmmm?"

"Fine," she said, a bit dazed as she tried to absorb this new information.

She shot a pleading glance at her friends, and they immediately volunteered, "We'll go, too!"

"Professor Snape, Mr. Giles, I trust that you can work out the living arrangements?"

"Of course," Giles said.

"Then I shall bid you good night. Perhaps we can discuss this situation in which we find ourselves when we have all had time to absorb the circumstances."

With a _swish_ of robes that did Snape proud, he spun and left the library, leaving Buffy and co. to stare after him for a moment before grunting in annoyance and following after him.

After the group had left, Giles sank heavily onto a chair, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt in a nervous gesture. "Well. Harry Potter."

Snape frowned severely. "Mr. Giles, I think it is my duty as Mr. Potter's chaperone to inform you that the behavior of both yourself and your charges today was reprehensible. We are here as a favor to you, and Mr. Potter is not a spectacle to be goggled at because of your puerile amazement. If an episode like the one that just happens occurs again, we will return to England, and Albus Dumbledore will not hold it against us."

"Professor Dumbledore promised to help us," Giles protested weakly. "He is fond of me."

Snape smiled, and it was a frightening sight. "Professor Dumbledore is fond of me, as well," he said. "However, he is more than fond of Harry Potter, and if you harm that boy in any way-physical or emotional-you will bring his wrath down on your head."

"I apologize," Giles said heavily. "And not because of your threat. I know that my actions were incredibly rude. The lad must have had a terrible life thus far, and it was cruel of me to add to his burdens. It won't happen again."

Snape stiffened a bit at Giles' words, uncomfortably reminded of his own previous behavior towards James Potter's son. "Yes, well, I suppose everyone deserves a second chance. Just mind that neither you nor your Slayer need a third, for you'll not get it."

* * *

Please review!


	3. Frustration

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em!

* * *

Chapter Three: Frustration 

Willow walked with her friends some distance behind Harry Potter, who was currently in the process of unerringly heading towards one of the more-often-frequented cemeteries in Sunnydale. She knew that her friends were still bristling over the British boy's apparent arrogance, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and the discomfort and hurt he must be feeling for having offered to help them only to be insulted and attacked. Of course, the fact that she had always looked upon him as an almost mythical character-always, as in, since she began her somewhat secretive forays into witchcraft-also made her reluctant to join his attackers.

"So, Willow," Xander said, "What's really this guy's deal? I mean, he's evil, right? I can feel it...He's a demon in disguise, and we have to kill him, don't we?"

"He's not a demon, Xander," Buffy said, annoyed. "I could have told you if he was a demon. Spidey sense, remember? I think he's just a really annoying kid."

Suddenly, another voice spoke up, causing them to jump in surprise. "I dunno, I kind of like him. He looks tasty." Angel grinned at the look on their faces, until Buffy punched him, hard, in the shoulder.

"I hate it when you do that creeping thing!"

"Sorry," he said unrepentantly. "I was hoping to surprise you. I thought it was going to be just you out tonight." His voice was wistful, and the longing in his eyes was reflected in Buffy's. Their love was forbidden, one which could have and already once had had terrible repercussions when they acted on their feelings.

Buffy visibly struggled with herself to bring her mind back to the topic at hand and to answer his implied question. "It was, until Giles Jr. decided to tag along and I decided I couldn't deal with him alone."

"Giles Jr.?"

"Yeah," said Xander. "Some British kid named Harry Potter. Thinks he's all that."

"Harry Potter?" Angel asked. "Wow. You think he'd give me an autograph if I asked? I have one of his Chocolate Frog cards back at the mansion."

"Not you too!" Buffy screeched. "What is it with all of you? Stop worshipping the kid! He's just a boy!"

"I agree completely," Harry said, his voice drifting back to them. "I do hope you realize that you're making enough noise to scare away even the deaf undead?"

"Did you hear that?" Buffy hissed. "He thinks he's all high and mighty."

Angel's brow furrowed in surprise at Buffy's unusually petulant tone. "Buffy..." he began, but instead of finishing his thought, he warned, "Look out!"

She swung around instinctively to block a blow from the vampire attacking her. "Do you mind?" she demanded, blocking another blow from her assailant before responding with a resounding right hook of her own. "I'm having a really bad day." A strong uppercut into the vampire's abdomen dazed him enough for Buffy to pull a stake from inside her jacket and plunge it into his chest in one smooth motion. She smirked as he exploded into dust. "Wait-it suddenly got a whole lot better."

She looked up from her own battle to see that her friends were similarly being assaulted. Angel was capably facing off against three other vamps, already in full vamp-face himself, while Willow, Oz, and Xander were in the midst of their typical fighting style: a combination of repelling the three vampires attacking them with crosses, then attempting to throw a punch but not succeeding in dazing them. She was about to go to their aid when two other vampires seemingly materialized from the darkness and took her attention for a vital forty-five seconds.

By the time she looked up as her last vamp turned to dust, Willow and Oz were standing back-to-back desperately trying to hold off their two vampires, but another had Xander unconscious and his neck exposed. She had just started sprinting to their positions when the vampire holding Xander abruptly exploded to dust when a gleaming sword appeared and severed its head from its neck. Attached to the sword was Harry Potter, a look of intense concentration on his face. She spared the briefest of moments to wonder whether he had already taken care of a vamp or two before changing directions and going to aid Willow and Oz.

At the same moment that she reached one of the vampires facing them and dusted him, Angel took care of the other.

Now that the immediate adrenaline rush was beginning to slow with the absence of danger, Buffy was surprised, as she always was, to find that she was breathing hard. Being attacked by this many vamps was a surprise; recently, she had considered herself to have done a good night's work if she dusted two or three, but tonight they had taken out at least nine. That meant that there was a new master vampire out there. _Great.__ Another vamp with delusions of grandeur, just what I need._

"Is anybody injured?" the Brit's voice, irritating because it was actually rather pleasant to listen to, interrupted her thoughts.

"Only my pride," Xander quipped.

"I didn't know you had any of _that _left to injure," Angel mocked.

"We're fine," Willow said.

Harry, who had still been standing some distance from the main group, which had migrated so that it was directly under a streetlamp, approached. Buffy was spitefully pleased to see that he had not come out of the fight entirely unscathed; he had a split lip and a black eye, and his hair was even more out of control than it had been earlier.

"What about you?" Buffy's grin was feral. "Do you need to see a doctor?"

He blinked, as if surprised that she had attacked him again, albeit with words. "If I needed to see a mediwitch every time I got a bruise, I never would have slept in my dormitory," he said. "So, no, I hardly need medical assistance. Thank you." His eyes drifted past her and landed on Angel, who was still in vamp face just in case any more vampires were lying in wait. He cocked his head to one side. "The vampire Angel, correct?"

"How do you know my name?" Angel asked, sounding a bit defensive.

"I think every decently strong wizard felt the backlash last year from the spell that restored your soul," Harry replied. "There was quite an inquiry into what happened, and they considered arresting the witch who had performed such powerful dark magic-I believe that would be you, Ms. Rosenberg, isn't it-but ultimately concluded that you had no idea what forces you had been toying with and decided to simply monitor you for further dangerous activities. The report was quite a fascinating read."

Willow paled at the thought, and began stuttering. "M-me? D-dark m-m-magic? Inquiry?"

Oz placed his hand on her shoulder, murmuring into her ear, "Relax, Will, he said you're not in trouble for it."

"That is true, uh...I'm afraid I don't know your name...However, it is important that Ms. Rosenberg understand the dangers of what she has done. Perhaps we can speak of this more in depth some time when we're not standing around near a graveyard in the middle of the night looking like gits?"

"I have a feeling that's all the vamps we'll be seeing tonight," Buffy said, reluctantly agreeing. "Why don't we head to my house and give Giles a call, tell him what's what. We can also find out what we're supposed to do with the Brit."

"Buffy," Angel reprimanded, "Be nice."

She breezed past him, glad that this time the new guy would have to follow her. "I'm always nice."

* * *

Severus Snape smirked at the annoyance in his host's tone as the man attempted to placate his irate Slayer via an interesting contraption called a "tell-a-fone." 

"Buffy," Giles said once again, "You're going to have to learn to work with him. Maybe you'll even learn to respect him!" He cringed away from the listening part of the tell-a-fone when some particularly vehement arguments were shrieked at him. "Buffy! Please, calm down!" Wince. "Buffy! Your mother already agreed! He's staying with you, and that's that!" Giles slammed the fone down onto the receiver, eyeing it as though it were some kind of rabid beast that might attack at any moment. "I swear, that is the most infuriating girl."

"I've met worse," Snape said, thinking back to that dratted know-it-all Hermione Granger. He never had been able to stand her. Of course, it was only now, after her death, that he had realized what a regrettable loss she was to the wizarding world; with her brilliance, she could have ushered in a new era of wizarding development. It was unfortunate that she had always shoved that Ravenclaw mind to the back and let the Gryffindor stupidity reign free whenever one of her friends was in danger. In the end, that was what had gotten her killed.

"I do apologize for her behavior. I confess that I never imagined her reaction to Harry Potter if she ever met him would be so...angry."

"If you're fishing for a way to get me to commiserate about teenage stupidity, please desist," Snape said. "I detest children of all kinds, and find it ridiculous and irresponsible to make excuses for their abhorrent behavior." _The fact that I was actually defending Harry Potter makes me sick to my stomach_, he thought, but did not say. He wasn't entirely certain that it was even true. Besides, he was supposed to be protecting Potter's emotional stability as well, wasn't he? He hadn't really had a choice about defending him, but it would do no one any good if Giles were to know that little detail.

"Er, right," Giles said. He suddenly got a small grin on his face. "Actually, you remind me a bit of our school principal, Mr. Snyder. He hates students as well."

Something in Giles' voice made Snape suspect that being compared to this Snyder character was not as flattering as being compared to Albus Dumbledore.

"Of course, as Harry's chaperone, I assume that you'll have to live there as well," Giles continued. Snape nodded resignedly. Live in a house with two teenagers. Joy. He was certain that he had had to do worse things as a Death Eater-turned-spy, but at the moment he couldn't think what. "I'll drive you over."

"That will be unnecessary," Snape announced, uncomfortable with the thought of riding in some sort of muggle contraption. "I am attuned to Mr. Potter's magical signature; I can just apparate to wherever he is."

"Really?" Giles asked, sounding excited about learning something new. "I didn't know that it was possible to apparate to a person."

"Many things which are impossible for most people become possible when Potter is involved," he replied ruefully.

"Very well, then. Will you please tell the children to come to the library after school tomorrow? That reminds me-what exactly are you and Mr. Potter going to be doing while they are busy?"

"I believe it was Professor Dumbledore's intention for Mr. Potter to attend the school with your Slayer as a temporary exchange student. I myself will help you research this demon some more so we can leave as soon as possible."

"I'm not entirely certain that Snyder will agree to allow an exchange student if I'm the one vouching for him," Giles admitted. At Snape's incredulous look, he said defensively, "The man is a cretin! He doesn't trust me."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I have...ways of convincing him, if that is necessary. If that is all?" Giles nodded. "Then I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning." In the blink of an eye, Snape was gone.

* * *

"So, Brit-boy," Xander said casually, "Why didn't you use any of your magic on those vamps back there, if you're so good at it?" 

"Vampires are almost completely immune to magic," Harry explained. "The only spells that truly work on them are the Unforgivables, and I am not willing to perform one of those when I can do the job as well without magic."

The Scooby gang, Angel, and Harry were scattered around Buffy's living room, having a sort of question and answer session, except that it was really more of an "interrogate the new guy" session.

"So, what," Buffy said rudely, "You just made up that story about killing a bunch of vampires with a spell?"

"First," Harry said, "I would remind you that I am not the one who told that story, and that I did my best to avoid the subject. Second, the story was true, although if you'd listened carefully you would have remembered that the spell was a one-use-only one that I myself developed. It took nearly an entire year to do all the calculations involved. However, the spell was not actually cast at the vampires to kill them."

"I don't understand," Angel said, his interest piqued.

"It's a rather simple idea, really," Harry replied, "Although rather a lot harder to carry out. I altered the rotation of the Earth. Just for the briefest of moments, based off of several exact calculations which determined that no negative long-term effects would happen, night became day, and every vampire in sight was incinerated."

"Wow," Willow said. "Wow. Is that really possible? Wow. That's amazing! The power it would take to actually alter something in the cosmos...wow."

"You said that already, Will," Xander sniped. "We get the point, Brit-guy's amazing, yadda yadda yadda."

"At least Ms. Rosenberg is showing some intelligence with her repetitious comments, Harris," Harry said, frowning. "Your pathetic insults, 'American git,' on the other hand, are redundant, not clever, and not in the least insulting."

Xander was spared the attempt to come up with a retort when wannabe-vampire-man suddenly appeared in the center of the living room, a scowl firmly in place on his sallow face.

"Oh, no way," Buffy protested. "You're not staying here, too!"

"Buffy!" her mother exclaimed, shocked, from the hallway. "Apologize immediately!"

"Indeed I am, Ms. Summers," Snape sneered at Buffy. "Or is the meaning of the term 'chaperone' so far beyond your miniscule intellect that you were not aware that it is my duty to watch over Mr. Potter?"

"Urg!" Buffy growled. "I'll be in my room!" she snarled, storming away as the rest of the room's inhabitants watched in varying states of bemusement.

"I think that's our cue to go," Xander said. "C'mon, Angel, why don't you walk us home?"

Xander, Angel, Willow, and Oz left, each muttering some form of "good night."

Joyce pursed her lips. "I apologize for my daughter's behavior, Mr...?"

"Professor Snape," he said smoothly.

"Professor Snape," she smiled. "My name is Joyce Summers. Please, call me Joyce."

He blinked. "Only if you call me Severus," he said, and though the words were charming, the fact that he forced them out through gritted teeth made them less so.

"Of course you're welcome in our home," Joyce said, apparently oblivious to the effort it took Snape to be pleasant. "I'm just so thankful that you have come to try to make Buffy's job a little easier. She's just so stressed about this whole Slayer thing; she's just my little girl, after all, and all of her Slaying stuff is so dangerous!"

"Umm...indeed," Snape said, trying not to aggravate their hostess by arguing with her.

"I'm afraid we only have on guest room," Joyce said, abruptly shifting subjects as she glanced at the clock on the mantle and realized just how late it was. "I'd get Buffy to sleep on the couch, but..."

"That's quite all right," Harry said. "I can sleep on the couch."

"The Savior of the Wizarding World, sleep on a couch?" Snape asked in mock alarm. "What would Albus say to that? I think not, Mr. Potter. I shall take the couch."

"Are you sure, Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly. "I would be fine on a couch; it's a step up from a cupboard, after all."

"Potter!" Snape barked. "Cease with your idiotic Gryffindor altruism, for once! I shall be taking the bloody couch!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Very well, Professor," he conceded gracefully. "I shall play the Slytherin tonight and allow you to take the couch. Of course, if I'm the Slytherin in this scenario, that makes you the Gryffindor, does it not?"

Snape gaped at that ultimate insult.

"Come, Harry, I'll show you to your room," Joyce announced. Harry followed her meekly, although he shot a single triumphant smirk in Snape's direction before disappearing up the stairs.

"Why, that little..."

* * *

At about six o'clock a.m. the next morning the entire household was awoken by an incredibly loud voice screaming, "HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

* * *

Review Responses: 

_Sparrow_: I agree that Buffy/Harry is a good pairing, and I was tempted, but I've always believed that Buffy and Angel are soulmates. Also, my Harry's just a bit too depressed and unsure of his place in the world to try to form a relationship anytime soon, I think.

_Lorency_: "Where do we go from here" is definitely a good question...I have most of the plot planned out in my head, but I often find that the characters have minds of their own. Sooner or later (quite possibly later than sooner) Buffy will at least come to respect Harry...I know that I portray Buffy as a rather shallow person early on, but I love her character and think that there's so much more to her than meets the eye. I hope to give that impression in this fic.

_Silverkitcat_: I'm not entirely sure how powerful he is compared to black-haired Willow, other than to say just "more powerful." I'm a huge Buffy fan, but I was only a reluctant fan in seasons 6 and 7. In this fic, Willow has performed a powerful spell and has great potential, and I do believe Harry will help her to unleash some of that.

Also, thanks to DuShuZhi, fartoots, debster62, tutorwife, Twiggy-Kill-Me, Lady FoxFire, and darkangel46 for your reviews...they're what got me to come out with another chapter so soon!

* * *

Please review!


	4. Welcome to High School, Part 1

Notes: First, and feel free to completely disregard this bit, I just want to shamelessly self-advertise for my C2 group...I haven't really known how to advertise it elsewhere, but I promise that it contains a lot of really great fics! Check it out!

Second, I just want to state officially and nonnegotiably that this will not be a Buffy/Harry fic; I'm sorry if that upsets anyone, but I'm a firm Buffy/Angel lover. As I've said before, Harry probably won't have any romantic entanglements in this fic. It definitely won't be slash (I have nothing against it, but I'm not really capable of writing it), and though this chapter hints at the possibility of Harry/Cordelia, I ought to warn you that it probably won't happen.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned 'em. Alas, I don't.

* * *

Chapter four: Welcome to High School, part 1 

_Previously:_

_At about six o'clock a.m. the next morning the entire household was awoken by an incredibly loud voice screaming, "HARRY JAMES POTTER!"_

Harry tumbled out of bed and onto the floor with a start, eyes wide and wand instinctively in hand at the sound of that familiar bellow right next to his ear. The sight that greeted him was somewhat surprising: Fawkes was perched on his chair, preening contentedly with a decided aura of smugness. Undoubtedly the irritating phoenix had opened the red, smoking howler (courtesy of Mrs. Weasley, of course) in the earliest hours of the morning just out of spite.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO BLAME YOURSELF FOR RON'S DEATH? IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT, AND IT TEARS US UP TO THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU BLAME YOURSELF WE LOST TWO SONS THAT NIGHT INSTEAD OF ONE. Really, dear," her voice softened into her usual motherly tones, "We all miss you desperately and don't want you to become a stranger. You're important to us, not just because you were Ron's friend, but because you're Harry." Harry couldn't help the tears that gathered in his eyes at her words. He was distantly aware that the other inhabitants of the house had congregated at his bedroom door, but paid them no heed. "Now, you said that you've gone to America for a while?" she continued more briskly. "I want you to make sure that you eat three square meals a day-four if you can manage it-you're still far too thin, dear-and make sure that you don't become addicted to that horrible coffee they make over there. Try to have a good time, and make sure you visit us as soon as you get back. We love you, Harry."

The howler spontaneously combusted, leaving behind nothing but a few small wisps of smoke. Fawkes chirped a bit mournfully at Harry, who waved his concern away. "I'm fine, Fawkes," he said. "You can tell that to Dumbledore."

Fawkes looked a bit doubtful, but apparently decided there was nothing else he could do. He raised his head in preparation for travel when he suddenly froze. He turned slowly towards the open door way, then launched himself off the chair and flew to Buffy's shoulder, perching lightly and apparently not noticing her surprised expression. She reached up oh-so-tentatively to stroke his brilliant feathers, and he warbled encouragingly. At the sound, Buffy let out a small sigh of relief, and a genuine smile formed on her face, the first from her that Harry had seen. The smile seemed to light up her entire face. She was beautiful.

Fawkes trilled one last time before regretfully disappearing in flames that touched Buffy's shoulder but didn't harm her.

Her eyes were closed for several moments, trying to hold on to those lingering feelings of undiluted happiness she had felt when the lovely bird had comforted her. Her mother and Snape watched the scene, both perplexed, although for different reasons. Joyce wondered why her daughter had suddenly appeared so contented, when she had been so upset last night. It seemed as though the others had seen something she hadn't, but she couldn't for the life of her understand why. Snape was surprised simply because last night he had come to the conclusion that the Slayer was a silly little twit (in other words, a typical teenager); however, a phoenix didn't land on just anyone's shoulder (Fawkes still steadfastly refused to come to him), and phoenix song only had a profound impact on those who could truly understand the meaning of the word misery.

Harry, meanwhile, was still collapsed next to his bed, two thin streaks of liquid on his cheeks the only sign that he had shed tears.

"What...what was that?" Buffy asked dazedly.

"A phoenix," Harry replied after a moment's pause as he finished collecting himself, and stood from the floor, looking slightly uncomfortable in his rumpled, too-large hand-me-down pajamas.

"A phoenix?" Joyce asked. "Isn't that some sort of bird? I didn't see anything."

"You wouldn't," Snape said authoritatively. "Phoenixes can't be seen by muggles-non-magic folk," he clarified at her questioning look.

"Then why could I see it?" Buffy asked. "I can't do magic."

"Perhaps not, but as the Slayer, you're more in tuned to magic than a muggle," Harry said. "Also, I think Fawkes wanted you to see him. For some reason, he felt drawn to you."

"He was beautiful," Buffy murmured.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "He is."

The teens seemed to share a moment in perfect accord before Buffy abruptly remembered that she was supposed to be angry with him. She stiffened infinitesimally, withdrawing in a non-physical way as well. "Who was that speaking?" she inquired coolly.

Harry flushed slightly and looked away.

When Snape saw that Harry was unable or unwilling to answer, he said, quietly, "That was Molly Weasley. Please don't inquire further."

"I'm sorry to have awoken you all so early," Harry apologized, still not making eye contact with anyone.

"Nonsense," Joyce replied briskly, eager to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. "We needed to wake up soon, anyways. Buffy, Severus, perhaps we should leave and let Harry have a chance to change?" She bustled them out of the room.

Harry turned to look at himself in the mirror. He murmured an incantation under his breath, allowing his constant glamour spell to melt away. The face that was revealed was even more haggard than the one he portrayed to the world. He knew that he was dangerously underweight, and the few hours of sleep he caught each night were utterly insufficient. He was wearing down.

He shook his head at his own folly, irritated by his foray into self-pity. He was here to do a job, and, by Merlin, he was going to do it. He wouldn't, couldn't, let everyone down by giving into his depression. Another incantation superimposed a healthier, vaguely more cheerful expression over his face, and he gathered his clothing and toiletries before heading for the bathroom.

If anyone had been watching him, they would have been astonished when they realized, after he had quit the room, that his wand had been lying on his bed ever since the others had left his room.

The room was empty, though. His secret was safe another day.

* * *

Harry watched the man in front of him from his clear, seemingly guileless green eyes, and felt that he had never been more grateful to have had Albus Dumbledore as his Headmaster than he was now. 

He was standing in Sunnydale High School's Principal's office, and sitting in a plush chair facing him was...well, he wasn't entirely sure _what _he was. He looked rather like a man who had begun a transformation into a rat animagus only to get stuck partway.

Harry hated rats.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snyder said with an unpleasant smile, "I think having a British exchange student is all rather exciting." Harry forced a weak smile in response. "I just hope you're not a troublemaker-I have no tolerance for those. My predecessor was all for trying to _teach_ troublemakers, to _guide_ them to being better people. That's what leads to getting eaten." Harry blinked. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mr. Potter?"

"Perfectly," Harry said, barely hiding the revulsion in his voice.

"Excellent," Snyder announced, his yellow teeth clearly exposed in a hideous parody of a grin. "We'll get along just _smashingly_ then."

* * *

Cordelia Chase examined her perfectly manicured nails with a small smile of satisfaction, her mind steadfastly focused on just about any subject other than the history that Mrs. Brown was spouting. Now, don't get the wrong impression: Cordy could be a great student when she wanted to be, but, really, who cared about Gengihs Khan, anyway? In her opinion he was just some Asian dude with bad hair and an attitude problem. 

The sound of blessed silence as Mrs. Brown stopped speaking was enough to pull her from her boredom-induced stupor, and her head shot up as she searched for the cause of the pause. Her eyes quickly landed on the boy who had just become the object of everyone's attention, who was standing uncertainly in the open doorway. She blinked once. Twice. She grinned.

What. A. Hottie!

He had elegant, well-sculpted features. He was a bit pale, but some time in the sun could remedy that. He was also a bit too thin, so she would have to work with him on that; after all, it's hard to be a jock when you don't have the muscles! His hair was adorable, and looked naturally wind-swept. His fashion sense was decent, although she could do so much better: he wore a conservative black outfit that fit him nicely but did nothing to show off his form.

"Is this Mrs. Brown's history class?" he asked, and she had to keep herself from squealing in delight at the sound of his mellifluous, cultured, _British_ voice.

"Yes," Mrs. Brown said. "Can I help you?"

"I'm a new exchange student," he replied. "I've come to join the class. My name is Harry Potter."

"All right, Harry," she said. "Why don't you take a seat? I'm sure one of the students in the class will volunteer to help you catch up on what you've missed."

Cordy immediately turned to the boy sitting next to her-that Jonathon freak. "Move," she hissed.

Eyes wide, clearly intimidated, he did as she asked.

"Mrs. Brown?" Cordelia asked sweetly, raising her hand. "There's an empty seat next to mine."

"Thank you, Cordelia," the teacher said. "Take a seat, Harry."

Harry complied, and Cordelia watched, entranced, as he gracefully strode to the now-empty seat. It didn't take long for Mrs. Brown to resume her lecture, but this time when Cordy blocked her out, she focused on Harry's profile, subtly, of course, and thought about just how delicious he looked. Ever since that appalling _Xander Harris_ fiasco, for which she still pled temporary insanity, she'd been having trouble getting back in the dating game. Now, she knew just who to get back on the horse with.

She barely noticed as he looked a bit frightened and scooted a little further away from her when she licked her lips and narrowed her eyes predatorily. Of course he was intimidated. After all, as she had once told that awful Buffy, when it came to dating...she was the Slayer.

* * *

Harry left the classroom the instant the bell rang as though he had a pack of werewolves on his heels. Where would Cordelia be least likely to follow him? She reminded him rather a lot of a more frightening version of Parvati Patil, and the one place _she_ would never be caught dead was...the library! Of course! 

He burst through the library doors several minutes later. He was a bit surprised to find Giles and Snape in conference over several texts on demonology, since it seemed a bit odd to be looking at such books in a public library, but he supposed that if people in Sunnydale were all like Cordelia Chase, it made sense that no one ever bothered looking at books.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing, Potter?" Snape demanded as he whirled to face the intruder, wand in hand.

Giles, on the other hand, appeared concerned. "Is something wrong? Is it a demon?"

"Cordelia...Chase," Harry gasped.

Giles gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, yes...Cordelia...I quite understand."

Snape was confused. "What are you two babbling about?"

"Cordelia is the local dating queen," Giles explained. "I'm not surprised that she has her sights set on young Harry."

Snape smirked. "Poor Potter, afraid of a _girl_?"

Harry glared at him. "I killed a basilisk when I was twelve, and I rode a hippogriff to rescue an escaped convict when I was thirteen, but I've never succeeded against anything as intimidating as a woman intent on dating."

Snape's retort was interrupted when the doors banged open once again, and Buffy came storming in. "Giles! God, I hate Snyder!" She stopped short when she saw that they weren't alone. She glared at Harry. "You should know that he thinks you're the second coming or something," she snarled. "He kept talking about how compared to the rest of us you were going to be a 'pinnacle of virtue' or some such nonsense."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, he threw his head back and began to laugh, long and hard, real laughter, a sound which he had not emitted for a very, very long time.

Finally, his laughter subsided, and he wiped several tears off his face. Seeing that Buffy looked quite annoyed, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just the thought of anyone calling me a pinnacle of virtue-look at Snape's face!"

Indeed, Snape looked rather as if he had just taken a huge gulp of polyjuice potion without preparing himself for just how bad it was going to taste. "You must be a much better actor than I thought, Potter," Snape said once he had recovered a bit of his composure.

Harry grinned. "Of course I am, Professor. Did you ever once suspect in the past seven years that the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

For the second time in as many days, Snape gaped in stupefied shock. _Potter...? Slytherin...? Thank Merlin he had the sense to ask for Gryffindor._

* * *

Review Responses:

_Athenakitty: _I plan to have Buffy discover more of the lesser-known details of Harry's life (i.e., he was raised in a cupboard...) over the course of the story. Harry will also come to know a lot of stuff about Buffy. I think pretty soon they'll finally be able to sit down and have a nice, long, probably painful chat. Rest assured that Snape is going to continue to be a spiteful git (I love that word) who can't admit when he's wrong, so expect plenty of sniping and insults. I'm not sure exactly when Harry will head back; probably not for quite some time, since I think he'll get rather attached to Sunnydale, but no matter how much he tries to escape it, the Wizarding World is an important part of his character.

Also, thanks to Lorency, DuShuZhi, JenniferElaine, Lady FoxFire, Igrainne, scrychance, gohon ssj4, A-man, Greywolf, Gohan00, Tutorwife23, anna may, Windy River, Ceris Malfoy, and ReAdEr for your reviews: because of them, I can't seem to stop writing when I'm supposed to be doing homework!

* * *

Please review!


	5. Welcome to High School, Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Harry Potter series. Darn.

* * *

Chapter five: Welcome to High School, part 2 

**Twenty minutes earlier:**

Xander was paying very good attention in English today. Very good attention, indeed. He was focused the best he had been all year long, in fact. Why? Why, because just a few minutes ago, he had been ecstatic when he had discovered that, if he squinted hard enough, he could almost make out Lisa Warren's cleavage reflected in Aaron Lumber's glasses.

He sighed dreamily. Lisa Warren didn't compare to Cordelia, of course, and for some reason she just wasn't as fun to watch as Willow, but Cordelia had snubbed him and, well, he didn't like her much any way, and Willow was off-limits. She was Oz's territory. Right. So, he was forced to settle on a second-string cheerleader with melon-sized...

"Psst! Xander!" Willow hissed.

He jerked his head up and his eyes away from that tantalizing sight, a guilty expression on his face. "Huh? What?"

"Xander? Is there something you'd like to say to the class?" Mr. Evans asked sternly.

"Uh, no, sorry," he replied sheepishly. He waited for a long moment before Mr. Evans turned his attention elsewhere before turning back to Willow. "What?" he whispered.

She shoved a piece of paper at him, and he realized that it was covered in notes that the two girls had apparently been writing to each other since class started.

_What's with you, Buffy? You've been acting weird all day. You look really happy. You're almost...glowy._

_It's nothing._

_Fine.__ What do you know about phoenixes?_

_Phoenixes?__ Well, they're supposed to be a rare, magical type of bird. They live for a cycle, then burst into flames and die. The phoenix is then reborn from the ashes. They're supposed to be really beautiful, but I haven't come across any pictures of them. Why?_

_I saw one._

_Gasp When?_

_Today.__ It was visiting the brat._

_You really shouldn't call him that, you know. He's never done anything to you._

_Hello? He froze me! Do you know how awful it is for a Slayer to lose control of her limbs? It's like my worst nightmare!_

_Well, you were going to attack him. Maybe that's his worst nightmare?_

_Right. Super Duper "I'm so great" Harry Bloody Potter's afraid of little ol' me?_

_It's not like he tried to get us all to worship him last night! We did it cuz we were being stupid and rude!_

_Hmph._

_Although, from what I've read he's faced more than his share of terrifying things in his world._

_Like what? A couple apocalypses?_

_Maybe nothing as earth-shattering as you've dealt with, but I do know that he's lost his parents, godfather, and two best friends fighting against You-Know-Who._

_No, I don't know who. What on earth are you talking about, Will?_

_Oh, right, you wouldn't know. That's what they called the really powerful evil wizard Harry defeated._

_All that fame for defeating a single wizard?_

_Sigh. It's a much bigger deal than you realize. This wizard, Voldemort, was torturing and murdering hundreds, maybe thousands of innocents in the years before Harry first defeated him, when he was only a year old. That horribleera was threatening to return when Harry defeated him again._

_I averted a couple apocalypses, but you don't see people practically fainting with stupefied awe when they meet me._

_It's hardly his fault that people worship him for what he did. I hear he hates the fame._

_Riiiiight_

_I really think you should give him another chance, Buffy._

_Buffy?_

_Great.__ All this talking about the brat's made me lose the happy I was having cuz of the phoenix._

_Oh, yeah! The phoenix! Where did you see one?_

_It came to our house this morning, delivering some sort of talking letter to Potter. They seemed really friendly._

_Wow! Phoenixes are only friendly to those of pure hearts._

_Well, he liked me, too._

_Of course he did, Buff. You're one of the purest hearts I know._

_Thank you._

_But he came all this way to deliver a letter to Harry, you said?_

_ARG!_

_He's really not that bad._

_Xander's__ with me on this one, Will._

_That's just because he was being all protective of you! Are you sure he still feels that way? I mean, Harry did save his life last night..._

_Why don't you ask him? Quick, while Mr. Evans isn't looking!_

Xander's eyes widened. Uh-oh. He snuck a glance at the two girls, both of whom were watching him intently, urging him to vote in their direction. _Er._ His eyes darted in the direction of the clock. Five minutes were left of class. He snuck another glance. Darn! They were still watching, but now they both looked aggravated. He glanced at the clock again. Four minutes, thirty seconds.

His hand shot up into the air.

"Yes, Xander?" Mr. Evans asked, sounding surprised. Of course, this was the first time Xander had ever offered to answer a question in this class, so he had good reason.

"Er...what was the question again?" Glance. Four minutes five seconds.

Mr. Evans glared sternly at him. "Don't volunteer to answer if you haven't been paying attention, Xander," he rebuked. "However, since you did volunteer...I asked who your favorite character was in the novel, and why."

Three minutes, forty seconds.

_Crap! What novel are we reading? Willow, could use some help here._ Oh, right. She was currently very angry with him for avoiding answering the question. Oh! There on the black board! What did that say?

Three minutes, fifteen seconds.

"Um, well I really like the character who wore the red badge of courage." _Slow, Xander, speak slow...ly._

Mr. Evans arched an eyebrow. "I see. And that character's name was…?"

Two minutes, fifteen seconds.

"Uh..." _Oh, that was a clever answer!_

Mr. Evans pursed his lips. "Thank you for wasting three minutes of valuable class time, Xander. In the future, please do us all a favor and don't bother trying to answer. Lisa?"

Xander sagged with disappointment. One minute, thirty seconds. Shoot. He glanced at his two scary female friends once again. Still glaring. Great.

_Oh, well. I tried._

_He seems all right to me, as long as he doesn't go around zapping anyone. At least he doesn't have fangs or a tail._

When the bell rang, he tried to escape, but Buffy, who was visibly fuming, quickly caught up to him. She was just about to lay into him when Snyder appeared behind her and tapped her on the shoulder, a ratty, smug look on his face.

In the moment it took Buffy to turn and face the principal, Xander disappeared around a corner.

* * *

**Back to the present:**

_Previously:_

_"You must be a much better actor than I thought, Potter," Snape said once he had recovered a bit of his composure._

_Harry grinned. "Of course I am, Professor. Did you ever once suspect in the past seven years that the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"_

_For the second time in as many days, Snape gaped in stupefied shock. _Potter...? Slytherin...? Thank Merlin he had the sense to ask for Gryffindor.

"Good to know you've got our principal wrapped around your little finger, too," Buffy sneered. "Really. How do you do it? Does it involve butt-kissing with _magic_, or can just anyone do it?

Giles rubbed his forehead tiredly, his glasses hanging from his mouth, and asked, irritated, "Buffy, did you actually need me for something, or did you just come here to disturb my research and insult our guest?"

"I'm disturbing you?" she asked incredulously. "Brit-brat was here first!"

Giles frowned disapprovingly at the nickname she had given Harry. "Yes, _Harry_ was; however, _he_ did not barge in like a herd of agitated elephants, flinging insults left and right!"

She glared at him. "You know, Giles, I think you act even more supercilous when you have more of your countrymen around!"

"It's supercil_i_ous!" Giles shouted in response. "And, I agree completely: I am much more capable of being myself when I'm not reminded at every turn that I've been exiled to the colonies!"

"The colonies? The _colonies_! Is that what you think of us! News flash: we haven't been your 'colonies' in three centuries!"

"Closer to two," Snape murmured. Harry, who was greatly enjoying watching the argument, elbowed him, trying to get him to remain unobtrusive.

Too late.

Buffy whirled on them, irate. "And you! You're just as bad! Coming in here like you own the place, acting all high and mighty just because you were born with a talent the rest of us don't have! Well, so far I haven't seen what's so great about it! You kill people and torture people and your friends die; what's so great about that!"

Harry paled.

"Buffy!" Giles roared, his face suffused with red. He advanced on her, pointer finger pointing at her with all the assertiveness of a sharp sword. "That is enough! Over the years, I've put up with your attitudes and your mood swings, and I've grinned an born it, but you have crossed the line! You, you are the Slayer! You're a seventeen year old girl with super-strength who is currently acting like a petulant child, and endangering us all by doing so!"

Harry half-expected Buffy to get even angrier at being yelled at; however, to his surprise, her face fell, and she looked truly apologetic. "Giles..." she began.

Giles interrupted her. "Get out," he said.

"What?"

"You cannot expect to give an apology at this moment and have anyone treat it as sincere. Get out, and don't come back until you are truly sorry for your actions."

She bit her lip, but nodded her acquiescence. She left quickly, and closed the door silently behind her.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry said quietly, still looking shaken from Buffy's verbal assault.

"Yes, I did," Giles disagreed. "It was wrong of me to allow her abuse to go that far, when you have done nothing to warrant any hostility on our part. I am grateful for your presence here, and she should be as well."

Harry sighed, obviously wanting to argue, but not willing to do so when even he had to admit that Giles was right. He could feel Snape's eyes on him, and wondered whether Snape was feeling pity or scorn. It was always hard to tell with the inscrutable Potions Master.

"Well, I ought to get to class," Harry said reluctantly. "I'll come by after school to help with the research."

Giles forced a smile. "All right. Have a good day."

Harry nodded, turned, walked away, and had just reached out to push open the library doors when Snape's voice calling, "Potter!" stopped him. He turned back, and saw Snape staring at him with that same piercing expression. Suddenly, he smirked. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for elbowing a teacher...and twenty points to Slytherin for almost having a member with a sense of when to keep quiet when watching a spectacle."

Without saying a word, Harry turned and pushed through the library doors, and began walking to his next class, the second-to-last class of the day. Scorn, then. A small smile formed on his face. He could handle that.

* * *

Review Responses: 

_Lady FoxFire_: Let's say no romantic interest, although I reserve the right to change my mind.

_Tutorwife23_: I just wanted to say, thanks so much for your kind reviews...they make my day every time I read one! I'm glad you like it!

_Sparrow_: An ecologist, eh? An admirable specialty. Thanks for the rabbit advice! Unfortunately, my father apparently completely destroyed the nest and killed one of babies accidentally while working in the yard; there was no nest to salvage, and it would have killed the baby to leave it out...I'm currently trying to nurse him until he's old enough to be out on his own.

_Lunatic Pandora1_: You're right, the immunity to magic thing seems a bit farfetched... I hope you'll forgive me if I leave it in, anyway, since Buffy needs to be able to do some things that Harry can't do with magic. I acknowledge your point, though.

Also, thanks to DuShuZhi, punk214, King Dimension, Night-Owl123, A-man, oracale, FanFictionDreamer, anan, cut back the slash, Ceris Malfoy, and nexus3 for your reviews; this fic definitely holds my record for promptest updates, and that's all thanks to you!

* * *

Please Review!


	6. It's Magic

Note: Since there's been some debate over the whole "vampires are immune to magic" thing, I'll present some of my ideas on it, and y'all can feel free to express your opinions via reviews (no, I have no ulterior motive...): in this world I am presenting, only extremely powerful magic can directly influence a vampire (i.e., the Unforgivables, or powerful dark magic, like Willow's curse). However, magic _can_ be used to indirectly harm them; for example, Lunatic Pandora1, as you said, a well-placed _incendio_ can potentially set a vampire on fire, if the vampire's clothes are the target. Does that make sense? That's also why Harry's spell worked; he was actually changing the world around the vampires, which is what killed them.

Finally, I've pretty much decided to introduce Spike as a character, since I think he's just a great character. I'll let you guys vote for the next two chapters (this one and the next): do you want him as a bad guy, or a semi-good guy? (No matter what, it won't be Buffy/Spike). Lemme know!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize!

* * *

Chapter six: It's Magic 

Harry watched as Buffy entered the library quietly, a pensive expression on her face. She had come in with Willow and Oz, probably because she would have felt uncomfortable confronting him or Giles alone after the debacle earlier that afternoon.

Her words had stung him. Not bee-sting kind of stung, but a flat-out "if we don't cauterize this wound with the hottest poker we can find you'll bleed to death" kind of stung. Mostly, her words had hurt because he had asked himself different variations of that same theme many times in the past few years.

Why did he consider magic so great, when it had caused him so much pain?

Was magic the cause of Ron and Hermione's deaths?

If anyone with delusions of grandeur could perform dark rituals and use magic to torture and slaughter, then just how useful was magic?

In his darker moments, Harry had wished many times that he had never been introduced to the world of magic, that he had just been allowed to rot in the Dursley's cupboard and live out his life as their house-elf. He often told himself that Ron and Hermione would never had died, had he just stayed in a life of brutal anonymity. He convinced himself that Sirius, too would not have died, nor Cedric.

When he was honest with himself, he admitted that they, and many more, people would have died even more painfully if he had never come back to the Wizarding world, but that wasn't often.

"Are we all here?" Giles asked, sweeping his gaze around the table, from Xander, who had entered nearly fifteen minutes ago and promptly hidden in a corner, to Oz and Willow, skipping over Buffy, whom he was clearly still livid at, and finally landed upon Snape, who wore his habitual scowl, and Harry.

"Excellent. Now, I have recently found in the Reginald Codex a prophecy which predicts the coming of a terrible demon who will wreak ultimate destruction upon this earth unless halted by the being with the power to stop him. After many hours of research, I've finally deducted which demon is threatening us, and have narrowed down the time when he will be summoned to sometime within the next six months."

"Six months?" Xander asked. "You call that narrowing it down? G-man, you're getting sloppy."

Giles glared at him. "The Codex was not specific about the timeframe, Xander," he said severely. "Be grateful that I got it past 'sometime this century.'"

"What's the demon's name?" Harry asked.

"Ah, yes," Giles said, getting back on track. "It is the demon Odiminis," he announced excitedly. Seeing the blank stares on the faces of everyone else in the room, he explained, "Odiminis is a very unique demon, and the key to defeating him is a puzzle. You see, Odiminis possesses both incredibly physical strength and size, about the size of a giant, but many times stronger, and great magical prowess, with magical levels that would probably equal those of Voldemort."

"So how do I kill it?" Buffy asked, speaking for the first time. "Or rather, how do _we_ do it, since I assume Brit-boy's here to help defeat it. I assume I go and pummel him with physical strength, and Potter does his magic thing?"

Giles placed his glasses so that they were dangling from his mouth, one of his nervous gestures. "Well, that is the conundrum," he admitted. "The Reginald Codex warns of Odiminis that, roughly translated, 'Physical force cannot hurt the Great One who will arise, and by mystical forces alone can He be harmed. Yet be thee wary, Oh mage, for the Great One cannot be killed by magic, but only by strength.'"

The silence was heavy enough to hear a pin drop.

"Uh, excuse me if I'm being obtuse," Oz said slowly, "But what exactly does that mean?"

Giles sank back into a chair and rubbed his forehead as if to massage his brain. "I haven't the foggiest," he said.

* * *

Harry walked down the stairs and into the living room, holding his Firebolt in one hand, and _Hogwarts, A History_ in the other. Carefully positioning himself so that he had a clear view of the stairs, he plopped himself down on the couch and determinedly began to read the heavy tome, ignoring Snape, who sat on the other side of the couch. 

"What are you doing with your broomstick, Potter?" Snape inquired snidely.

Harry shrugged, still not looking up. "I'm going to go flying in a bit."

"And how do you intend to do so without being seen?" he sneered.

Harry frowned pensively. "From what I've heard, the supernatural is automatically dismissed in Sunnydale," he replied. "People see it so often they've become immune to it and learned to shrug it off."

Snape didn't respond, and Harry looked up from his book to see the older man watching him closely. "What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking it strange that you've flown as little as you have," Snape said carefully, and for once there was no rancor in his tone. "You so clearly enjoy it..."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Not much need to practice for Quidditch, now that Malfoy's in Azkaban," he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You never had to practice to beat him before, Potter. That didn't stop you then."

Harry saw Buffy come down the stairs for the first time in an hour. He stood to approach her, but first turned and said to Snape, "I fly much more often than you realize, Professor. Much more often than I used to, in fact."

Snape stared after him in confusion, feeling once again as though Potter had won some sort of battle between them, and wondering just why he had agreed to chaperone Potter on this trip in the first place.

* * *

"Buffy," Harry said, confronting her in the kitchen. 

"Harry," she said mockingly. "What do you want?"

"What have you been doing?"

"None of your business," she said defensively. "Why?"

He looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Will you have free time to do something in a couple of hours?" he asked.

She frowned. "Maybe. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You'll have to see to find out," Harry said. "I guarantee you'll enjoy it, though, and I think you'll appreciate it later."

"Fine," she said gracelessly. "I've got to do some homework, but I'll be down in an hour or two."

He smiled. "I'll be waiting."

* * *

Harry sauntered back into the living room and plopped himself back onto the couch, taking up _Hogwarts, A History _once again. 

Snape was watching him.

Harry turned to him with a bright, only somewhat-fake smile, and said, "Professor! Did you know that in the year 1200s, Urglook the Obscene, the Goblin Headmaster of Hogwarts, used to distribute rats' eyes as a tasty treat to all visitors and to insist that they ate them? Aren't you just grateful for the invention of lemon drops?"

* * *

Buffy led the way out into the yard, Harry following behind her with his Firebolt firmly in hand. 

"Make it fast," she commanded, hands on her hips. "I need to go patrolling."

He smiled slightly. "I wanted to show you something," he said mysteriously.

She quickly looked around the empty yard. "What?"

"You can't see it from down here," he said. "You have to look from the sky."

She made an exasperated noise. "Then what exactly do you expect me to do? Fly on your little broomstick?"

He smirked. "Why, yes, actually," he responded, his green eyes dancing with a light-hearted, gleeful anticipation that almost seemed out of place when so far they had always seemed so haunted.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," she snarled. "Why are you wasting my time?"

"I'm not," he said. "Here, just watch."

He quickly mounted his broom, reveling in the familiar feeling, before firmly kicking up off the ground. He zoomed in the air, enjoying the sensation of utter freedom, before reluctantly coming down to land before the gaping Slayer.

"See?" he asked with a breathless grin.

She blinked, coming out of an awed haze. She frowned. "You expect me to get on that thing with you? How do I know you won't just fly away and let me plummet?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're the Slayer," he stated, "I would hope that you could hold onto the broom tightly enough not to fall off; not that you'd need to. After all, do I have any other way of flying?" He made a show of raising his arms into the air on both sides, allowing her to see that he wasn't armed in any way other than his typical weaponry and wand.

She shook her head decisively. "I don't trust you," she insisted.

All traces of amusement fled from his face. "Please," he said, "You really need to do just this one thing for me."

"Why?" she asked, intrigued.

"I can't explain it in words. You've misjudged me ever since we first met; I think this-" he gestured to the broomstick "-can help you at least begin to understand." Seeing that she looked indecisive, he added another, "_Please_," for good measure.

"Oh, all right," she said reluctantly. She would have to_hug_ him! Yuck! "If you try to kill me, I'll introduce you to Mr. Pointy," she threatened.

He grinned. "You can trust me." He mounted the broomstick once again, and said, "Climb on behind me. Hold on tight with your legs and arms." She complied. "I'm going to push off, now," he warned.

He pushed powerfully off from the ground, and they soared into the air with delicious speed. Harry could feel Buffy's arms reflexively clinging tightly around him, her Slayer strength nearly breaking his ribs, and his sword, which was strapped to his back, digging excruciatingly into his spine. As they reached a higher altitude, though, and she began to feel that freedom which he so loved, she relaxed, and he could tell by the little sigh that she gave that she was looking around herself in wonder.

"This...is amazing," she admitted. "I've always wanted to fly."

"I love it, too," he murmured.

"Why are you showing this to me?" she asked. She felt almost as if by accompanying him on his broom, she was intruding on a very private moment.

"Because you needed to understand that not all magic is bad. I know you think it is, and I know, trust me, I know, that magic can be terrible. It can be the worst thing in the world. It can be the best thing, too, though. Magic can be wonderful," he answered truthfully. "My first love when it comes to magic will always be flying."

She was silent for a moment, absorbing what he had said. She really didn't know anything about magic, certainly not enough to pass judgment. She did know, however, that right now she was having one of the best times of her life, even in the company of someone she was fairly certain she despised. Well, maybe she didn't despise him. He just really irritated her. It wasn't fair, that he got all that attention for defeating one Dark Lord, and she as the Slayer was forced to hide her identity when she'd saved the world several times.

Of course, he didn't seem to care for the fame, but it was still his fault for having it, wasn't it?

All antipathetic thoughts were swept from her mind when Harry performed a little loop-de-loop, and she closed her eyes, loving the feeling and sound of the wind rushing past her and around her. When the blood had rushed back down from her head, she asked wistfully, "Do you think that I could fly on the broom alone? I mean, since I saw the phoenix..." She didn't know if she could live happily if she never did this again.

"Maybe," he said. "I'm not sure how much magic or affinity with magic it takes."

"How do you do it?" she asked curiously.

He slowed the broom down, and demonstrated to her how he used his arms and legs and shifts in body weight to direct the broom. He suspected that with her Slayer agility and strength she would be an amazing flyer, if the broom would actually fly for her.

They were soaring over a cemetery now, the gravestones looking tiny beneath them.

"Thank you for letting me experience this," Buffy said to him. The words didn't sound forced.

"I just want us to at least be able to be cordial to each other," Harry said, his voice raw with honesty. "I don't mean to interrupt your life or cause trouble."

"I think I'm starting to understand that," she replied. "I-look at that!" She pointed past him. He could clearly see on the ground below him a mass of people fighting. He guessed by the apparent superhuman strength of some that it was a group of vampires attacking several human teenagers.

His mind worked rapidly, calculating, before he looked back at Buffy. "Are you holding on tightly?" he asked her quickly. She nodded. "Do you remember what I was just telling you about how to fly?"

"Yes," she snapped, good mood gone with the sudden flood of adrenaline in her veins in anticipation of a fight, "I'm not stupid."

He nodded once. "Hang on then, and good luck," he said.

"What?" The word had barely left Buffy's mouth when Harry somehow stood on the slender handle of the broomstick before pushing himself up and off and into a graceful, fatal dive, plummeting headfirst towards the ground from ninety feet in the air, and leaving her to do the same.

* * *

Note: The name "Odiminis"is my oh-so-clever blending of the Latin words "odium" and "hominis," which mean "hatred" and "of man" respectively. If anyone has a better name, please volunteer it for consideration. 

My first real cliffhanger! Do y'all like those?

Review Responses:

_Athenakitty: _I think most of the rest of the discussion of Harry's past will come from Harry himself, or Snape, not Willow. There'll definitely be some apologizing...maybe even some heartfelt weeping. He'll be in Sunnydale for as long as it takes.

_Xenocide_: Thanks for your points about the immunity of vampires to magic; it's all very perplexing, really.

_Lady FoxFire_: I think Buffy's finally beginning to mellow a bit this chapter; it'll probably take a few shockingly revelations, but Buffy'll come around eventually.

_Cut back the slash_: Well, having had an English class earlier today, I'm tempted to answer your "who is the villain" question with an abstract: "The greatest villain is perhaps Harry's past." Assuming that you, like any sane person, are actually wondering who the big, bad monster is, I've introduced him a bit above, and Spike might also figure in there somewhere as a Big Bad.

Also thanks to DuShuZhi (wow, you're amazingly prompt with reviews, thank you so much!), King Dimension, FanFictionDreamer, Windy River, A-man, jouve25, Night-Owl123, Richan MMIII, and, as always, Tutorwife23 (is this fast enough for you, Shauna?) for your reviews!

* * *

Please Review!


	7. Bewilderment and Battles

Note: All right, so the whole leaping into battle from the sky thing was a bit cliché, but I had to do it...I've always thought of flying as an inherent part of Harry's character, and I don't think not having a broom should keep him from something he loves so much.

Also, just a tiny complaint to make about reviews...someone e-mailed me directly this morning saying with an e-mail saying "just to tell u the last 3 or 4 chapters for ur xover w/hp and buffy arent working... "

Now, I'm not complaining about receiving a negative review, since I want to know your honest opinions; I just ask, if you're going to express your opinion, please be brave enough to do so by posting a review, rather than by e-mailing me; I receive it either way, but one's decidedly more official.

I'll say this once again, and then I'm going to stop addressing this question since it breaks my heart that so many people are asking it: **this fic will NOT be Harry/Buffy!** Thank you, and back to our regular programming...

Disclaimer: If I owned Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter, I wouldn't be committing a heresy and blending the two together on would I? Neither do I own the line "Now, that's what you call ironic" which I stole from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ because I've always wanted to say it.

* * *

Chapter seven: Bewilderment and Battles 

_Previously:_

_The word had barely left Buffy's mouth when Harry somehow stood on the slender handle of the broomstick before pushing himself up and off and into a graceful, fatal dive, plummeting headfirst towards the ground from ninety feet in the air, and leaving her to do the same..._

Buffy reflected in that oh-so-brief instance of weightlessness before she began to fall that there were times when being a Slayer really sucked.

Like when she was forced to burn down her school gym because it was full of vampires, and got kicked out of school for her efforts.

Or when she was told that she was prophesized to die and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Or when she sent the man (well, vampire, really)she loved into an untold hell dimension.

Or when she met a British kid who was famous for killing an evil wizard who convinced her to go flying on a _broomstick,_ of all things, then abandoned her in mid-air.

In the not-so-brief moment in which she began to accelerate toward the ground with alarming velocity, she didn't think of anything at all, except for the strange exhilaration that she was experiencing in this instant before her rather messy death.

Then, perhaps twenty feet from the ground, in a surge of last-ditch desperation, she yanked up on the handle of the broomstick with all her formidable Slayer strength, and as she felt the broom respond, painfully pulling off its deadly course and gracefully changing directions, she decided that at times like this, there was no one she'd rather be than the Slayer.

Flying was surprisingly easy. It was simply a matter of exerting her dominance over the broom, and praying that the broom wouldn't suddenly realize that she actually wasn't a witch and oughtn't be able to fly.

_She_ was in control, not the broom.

_She_ would decide where they went, not some inanimate object.

She _would_ kill the broom's owner the minute she got her hands on him.

Speaking of Harry, where exactly was he, and why wasn't he splattered on the ground?

* * *

Joyce walked into the living room, a smile on her face and a tea cup in either hand. Snape looked up from his perusal from the latest edition of _New and Exciting Ways Not to Blow Up Your Cauldron_ to take one of the cups from her with what on anyone else would pass for a grateful smile. Snape just managed to look slightly constipated. 

"Where are the kids?" Joyce asked, settling herself comfortably down on the couch next to him and taking a deep drink from her tea. She lifted Harry's copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ off of the couch and began flipping through it interestedly.

Snape took a sip of the tea, gagged, and tried to surreptitiously spit into his tea cup just as Joyce looked back up at him. He attempted to smile guiltily. "I think they've gone out; Potter's trying to convince her to become friends."

"That's good," Joyce replied. "I think it'll be good for Buffy to make friends with such a nice young man."

"Hmmm," Snape said noncommittally. Not long ago, he would have sneered and made a biting comment in response, but he couldn't seem to find the bitterness in him anymore.

She looked back at the book, and Snape took the opportunity to dump his tea into a nearby flower pot. Not looking up, Joyce mused, "He does act rather strangely, though, doesn't he?"

"Hmm?" Snape replied, trying to turn his attention back to his Potions magazine while still somewhat participating in the conversation.

"Harry. He's a rather taciturn youth, but it seems like if I try to include him in, well, familial activities, you know, like eating dinner, watching a movie, he gets very uncomfortable and retreats as soon as he can."

"Probably has something to do with growing up in a cupboard," Snape said distantly, turning the page and grimacing at the sight of a cheerfully, blindingly smiling Gilderoy Lockhart pretending to stir a potion while waving from the page. It seemed as though even though he had not regained his memories that bloody idiot had found a way of selling himself. He closed the magazine in disgust and vowed to cancel his subscription as soon as he could.

He looked up and found that Joyce was staring at him blankly. "A-a cupboard?" she asked incredulously.

Snape shifted under her astonished gaze. "So I'm told," he confirmed. "Potter's relatives hated and resented his presence ever since he was thrust upon them when he was a year old," he explained. "Although, I imagine that they hate him even more now that they were imprisoned in Azkaban last year when we learned the truth. I think, in the end, the cupboard was among the less appalling of their crimes against them."

Joyce's lips were pursed and Snape could see a muscle in her jaw jump. "Are you saying," she said slowly, "That that nice boy was _abused_ for _sixteen_ _years_ and you, one of his teachers, _never noticed_ for _sixteen years_?"

"I thought he was an arrogant brat," Snape protested defensively. "He looks exactly like his father, James Potter, and a more arrogant, selfish, bigheaded berk you'll never see!"

"So you never tried to get to know him?" she demanded. "You never looked past his face and saw the scared, abused child underneath?"

"Do you know what his father did to me?" Snape snarled. "He and his friends tried to kill me! He only saved my life at the last minute because he was scared for his own skin were anyone to find out what he had done!"

Joyce stared at him, and though she said nothing, fury was burning in her eyes. He could clearly read the accusation in her face, _How__ dare you blame the son for the actions of the father? How dare you try to justify leaving a child with monsters? How dare you come into my house and pretend to be a good man?_

"I see," she said tightly after a long moment. She stood, dropping _Hogwarts, A History_ on the coffee table with a loud _THUMP_. Her eyes flitted from his empty tea cup to the nearest, now-moist, flower pot, and she said, exaggerated courtesy in her voice, "You've finished your tea. Let me get you some more."

* * *

_One hour earlier:_

Cordelia sat in front of her mirror and applied deep, blood-red lipstick to her perfect lips, not allowing herself to smile with satisfaction at her perfectly made-up face until she had finished with the last coat. Her outfit was as aggressive as her expression, leaving little to the imagination, the dark red and midnight black giving the impression of sultry eroticism.

She was going to the Bronze, the one cool place in Sunnydale, and the one place she was guaranteed to find Harry Gorgeous Potter.

After all, he was new to Sunnydale, so there was no way he had anything better to do than go to the Bronze, not like _Buffy_ or _Harris_ who were out at all hours of the night, making fools of themselves and slaying demons.

Puh-lease.

Harry was so much cooler than Buffy could ever have hoped to be,but Cordelia was the coolest of them all.

Tonight, she would make her kill.

* * *

_Present:_

Harry decided that falling was not nearly as nice a feeling as flying.

Harry didn't bother regretting his rash decision as he hurtled toward the ground, his eyes rapidly flitting between his target vampire and Buffy as she fell on his prized broomstick, ready to cast a wandless levitation charm if it became necessary, but hoping Buffy could find it in herself to fly. His intuition, which often led to actions which others would consider rash, had saved many more lives over the years thanit hadcost, and in this, at least, he could not afford to doubt himself. Since he had started falling before Buffy, he was nearer to the ground than she, perhaps only ten feet above it, when she finally gathered her wits about her and sent the Firebolt soaring back up into the sky.

He didn't have time to smile with relief before he abruptly transformed, his lips shifting into a grinning beak and his arms morphing into wings which when extended would span a little over seven feet. His aerodynamic body was no longer falling, but diving, keen eyes focused on his target, talons flexed in anticipation of what would happen next.

A loud screech emitted from his beak as he suddenly spread his wings, using them to slow himself down infinitesimally and slightly redirect himself, and he was able to make out the single bead of sweat that formed on his prey's face as its eyes opened wide in shock before he raked his incredibly sharp talons across them, blinding him and knocking him down, shrieking with the pain.

Harry screeched again, as he soared past, twisting his head to look for the next enemy, and his gaze landed on a particularly large vampire who was bearing down on a girl who looked remarkably like...Cordelia?

He gave a downward stroke of his mighty wings, quickly headed toward the vampire, and in a single moment, transformed back into his human form, drawing one of Slytherin's daggers in his left hand and his sword in his right, landing firmly on his feet and impaling the vampire with the dagger directly through the heart.

The vampire smirked for a brief moment despite his obvious pain, and snarled, "Only a stake can harm me, mortal."

Harry sneered in response and channeled a tiny bit of his magic through the magic-conducive dagger, smiling slightly as the vampire's eyes widened in response to the sudden agony centered in his chest and expanding outward. "Not quite," he said. One sudden thrust of his magic through the dagger, and the vampire disintegrated into ash. He looked up and met Cordelia's horrified eyes.

Her dismay was not, however, he was soon to learn, because she had just been attacked by a vampire. Her horror was that he had known how to fight them.

"Behind you!" she screamed, and he whirled, sword and dagger at the ready, to face his next opponent, and wondered when Buffy would decide to grace them with her presence.

* * *

Angel sipped some reheated cow's blood from a coffee mug, sitting close to his crackling fireplace, and shivered. He reflected, as he often had since his return from Hell, that he could never be warm again without Buffy, though he knew that they could never risk being together again. If he had not already run himself dry of tears long before, he would have wept.

* * *

Buffy twisted the broom so that it was pointing at the brawl, and urged it forwards. She watched in shock as an enormous eagle swooped out of the night beneath her and mauled one of the vampires, but shook her head and forced herself to concentrate when she decided that it must be Harry's familiar, or something.

_All right, Buffy,_ she told herself fiercely, using her left hand to pull a stake from her coat pocket and fingering it in anticipation. _Show that Brit just what you're really capable of._

She accelerated the broom even more quickly toward a vampire, and, at the last minute before she would collide with him, swung off of it, dangling from it by her right hand and using her circular momentum to snap-kick him in the face with great force. She pulled the broomstick down with her as she landed lightly on the ground, quickly staking the still-dazed vampire. She quickly took in her surroundings; there were five other vampires, but all of the humans except..._Cordelia_...had had the sense to run away in the confusion of the fight. Harry had managed appear from God-knew-where, and was capably facing off against two of the vampires, leaving the other three for her to handle.

At first, she thought that he hadn't noticed her arrival, but then he called out, "How kind of you to join us!"

She snarled angrily, and channeled her anger into a powerful punch which sent one vamp sprawling. "I'm going to get you for that stunt!" she shouted back. She roundhouse-kicked another, staking him. A glance told her that Harry had killed one of the vamps and was now left facing only one more.

Several more blows and she had staked another vampire, but the sound of a loud cry of pain which could only have come from Harry distracted her for a brief moment, and as she glanced over to see him clutching his right shoulder which was obviously dislocated, she felt her final opponent kick the stake out of her hand.

He landed several good punches during her distraction, but she quickly regained herself and gave as good as, and then better than she got. Still, she wasn't going to be able to kill the vamp without some sort of stake, and there wasn't much around that she could use, unless... She shrugged mentally. It was just a broomstick, anyway, wasn't it? And didn't he owe her for leaving her in mid-air like that? She grabbed the broomstick and lifted it over her knee, preparing to bring it cracking down when she heard Harry, who must have somehow killed the vampire he was fighting despite his injury, cry, "No! Don't!" In that moment, the vampire came for her, fangs bared, and she was almost defenseless, with her hands still holding the broom, when Harry shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

There was a flash of green light, and the vampire collapsed to the ground, dead, but did not disintegrate.

She whirled angrily on him, and, almost without realizing what she was doing, punched him in the face as hard as she could. She felt his nose break as he stumbled back. "Are you insane?" she hissed. "You almost just got me killed-twice!"

He slowly lowered his hands from his face, revealing dead green eyes, the same color as the spell he had just fired, which were already beginning to blacken as blood dripped from his broken nose. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. His eyes darted to the broom, then back to Buffy, then to the broom again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

She stared in confusion as he curled into a fetal position on the ground, whispering the words over and over again as a mantra. She barely noticed as Cordelia shakily walked over to stand beside her, watching the previously-stoic boy with shock on her face.

The startling sound of deliberate, loud clapping broke the stillness of the night, and both girls jerked their heads up toward the sound. Sharp features and platinum hair emerged from the darkness, and the handsome man who had appeared smirked and said, British accent emerging strongly, "Well, well, well. I think you just broke the Boy-Who-Lived. I hadn't thought it possible, considering all the other crap he's been through. In the end, the Slayer's the one who drove him loony. Now, that's what you call ironic."

Buffy glared uncomprehendingly at the vampire she had last seen drunk and love-lost. "Spike," she spat.

He grinned, and his face suddenly mutated into the hideously ridged countenance of a vampire. The pointed tips of his fangs clearly glinted in the moonlight. "'allo, Love."

* * *

Review Responses: 

_DuShuZhi_: I am sorry that the chapters are all so short, since I myself get annoyed when I read other fics that have really short chapters; alas, real life forces me to only be able to produce a bit a day. I'm glad you're liking it!

_Tutorwife123_: Thanks! I was pretty sure that was how old she was, but not positive. Thanks for being such a faithful reviewer; hope this chapter lives up to the past ones!

_Agnus Dei_: Those are some interesting pairings you mentioned...unfortunately, I can pretty much guarantee it's not going to be any of those, if there'll be one at all; I think Cordy would just be too shallow for him, I'm not much of a fan of Harry/OC pairings, and certainly wouldn't know how to write one, I also don't really know how to write slash, and Willow's with Oz. As for Luna, I'm afraid I've set up the fic without her taking much of a role, if she'll appear at all. Sorry.

_Lady FoxFire_: True condition? What do you mean?

Also thanks to jbcna, reviewer, Kaaera, Dragonic, Night-Owl123, Skifter, A-man, Windy River, Musings-of-Apathy, Lunatic Pandora1, Lorency, Ceris Malfoy, anna may, punk214, cut back the slash, and Charmina for your reviews! I was amazed at the great response to the last chapter!

* * *

Please Review!


	8. Consequences of Guilt

Note: I've decided to make this a Joyce/Dumbledore fic! Lol...just kidding, that was my mother's perverted idea, but I won't subject you to it...

Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Joss Whedon own them, not me.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Consequences of Guilt 

_Previously:_

_The startling sound of deliberate, loud clapping broke the stillness of the night, and both girls jerked their heads up toward the sound. Sharp features and platinum hair emerged from the darkness, and the handsome man who had appeared smirked and said, British accent emerging strongly, "Well, well, well. I think you just broke the Boy-Who-Lived. I hadn't thought it possible, considering all the other crap he's been through. In the end, the Slayer's the one who drove him loony. Now, that's what you call ironic."_

_Buffy glared uncomprehendingly at the vampire she had last seen drunk and love-lost. "Spike," she spat._

_He grinned, the pointed tips of his fangs clearly glinting in the moonlight. "'allo, Love."_

The tableau had the potential to become very nasty, very quickly. Cordelia had tears slowly leaking out of her eyes, and her mascara was already hopelessly smeared (thus proving the night a complete failure). Spike was just a few feet away, and Buffy practically itched to go dust him once and for all, but she was loath to leave Harry lying unprotected in this state, still muttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Then, something very strange happened. A sudden burst of flames illuminated the night, and Fawkes the phoenix appeared, perched on the shoulder of the strangest looking man she had ever seen. He was only of slightly-above-average height, but at first glance appeared taller both because he was quite slender, and because of the length of his white beard, which was so long that he had tucked it into his belt. He wore a rather ridiculous looking wizard's hat that would have looked even sillier had it not been accompanied by an even more flamboyant outfit. Half-moon glasses sat comfortably on his nose, and peering through the lenses were two deadly serious cerulean eyes.

She could practically feel the waves of power rolling off of him.

Those intelligent eyes seemed to take in the entire scene in an instant, lingering so briefly that she wasn't sure if she imagined it on the broomstick in her hand-the broomstick that seemed to be the catalyst for all of this-before landing heavily on Harry's curled-up body.

"Oh, my dear boy," he whispered. Then, in an action which she didn't expect from such a powerful being, he sank to the ground next to Harry and gathered his trembling form into his arms. Harry clutched at the sleeves of his robes like a child, but didn't stop repeating his mantra.

"By George!" Spike exclaimed suddenly. "Albus Dumbledore! How long's it been? Fifty years? Nice to see you again, old chap! I see your Chocolate Frog card doesn't do you justice; you look great!" Despite his jovial words, the look on his face was menacing.

"Spike," the man, Dumbledore, spat, utter hatred shining in his eyes, his voice radiating power and fury. "What have you done to Harry?" He had maneuvered the boy into his lap and was cradling him like a small child, lightly rubbing his back in a soothing manner quite at odds with his voice.

"Me?" Spike asked, sounding injured. "_I_ didn't do anything; it's not _my_ fault that the Slayer drove him catatonic by trying to break his godfather's broom."

Dumbledore's eyes met hers, and Buffy had to keep herself from flinching at the menace now being directed her way. Then, the connection was broken, and Dumbledore looked back down at Harry, brushing his hair from his forehead in a loving gesture, and ordered, "Go away, Spike, and be grateful that I don't kill you right now."

"Hey! You can't order me around," Spike snarled. "I'm here to talk to the Slayer, and I'm not leaving till I get the chance."

"Spike," Buffy said quietly. "Leave."

He glared, but, in a typically spineless gesture, gave in. "Fine. I'll see you soon, Love. Dumbledore," he inclined his head in the briefest of nods which went entirely unnoticed by the preoccupied wizard. Spike snorted, "Wizards. Hmph," and then blended into the night and disappeared.

No sooner had he left, than Cordelia let out a scream of rage. "Arg! You people! You're every where! I'm cursed, that's what it is! Why can't you leave me alone!"

Harry whimpered slightly, and Dumbledore swiftly drew his wand from his sleeve, pointed it at the hysterical girl, and uttered, "_Obliviate_." She blinked, and a dazed look settled on her features. "Go home," he commanded, and Buffy was amazed to watch as Cordelia obeyed without complaint. How often she had wished she could have done the same thing to Cordelia.

He looked back down at Harry, who had now begun clawing at the scar on his forehead with the hand of his uninjured arm, his nails already tearing small gouges in his skin as he tried to peel it off. "Oh, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. He pointed his wand at the boy and murmured, "_Stupefy_." Harry went limp

"Ms. Summers, I presume?" Dumbledore asked her, and she nodded briefly. "Come stand next to me. Fawkes can take us to your house, and then we can decide what needs to be done for Harry."

Buffy glanced at the phoenix, and was reminded of the warmth that his presence and touch had instilled in her just this morning. Right now, though, even the phoenix looked grieved, its expressive eyes focused on the traumatized boy sadly. The wonderful feeling of this morning felt very far away right now as she complied, and she was not even slightly warmed when they disappeared in another flurry of flames.

* * *

Severus was brooding. It was an activity that he often indulged in, although Minerva had informed him once that during and after his brooding sessions he was always even more unpleasant to be around than usual. He had brooded twice as often for a week after that just to infuriate her. 

It was also true that the subject of his brooding, more and more often, tended to be one Harry Potter, bane of his existence.

It was quite irritating that the presence of Harry Potter had somehow managed to infect Joyce Summers, who seemed like a fairly level-headed woman, with Molly Weasley Syndrome, an annoying and apparently contagious disease. As if Potter needed more people to defend him!

The worst part was that Snape was afraid that he had begun to catch that dreadful disease, as well.

After all, would he even be here, in this dreadful, sunny place, if he didn't care about the brat? He wasn't even certain that he would have done so for his Slytherins, what few of them were left after the war.

He couldn't remember a time when he had been as frightened as he had been less than a year ago when the smoke had cleared, so to speak, and he had found himself the only Death Eater still standing (through what miracle, he did not know, although he suspected Potter had a hand in it), and both Potter and Voldemort collapsed on the ground, not breathing.

All the past years had seemed to solidify into that one moment, and he had realized for that short instant that if Harry Potter died his sacrifice would be more than the Wizarding World deserved and enough to render their victory against Voldemort null and void.

And Joyce had the audacity to accuse him of not caring, if not directly with her words, then with her eyes? Why, no one had saved Potter's life as many times as Severus had! Who had kept him from falling off his broomstick in his first year? Who had protected him from a werewolf in his third year? Who had tried to teach him Occlumency in his fifth year? Who had saved his life in those panicked moment after the final battle?

But then, how could she not blame him, even not knowing the details of his greatest transgressions against the boy? Hadn't he ostracized the boy the minute he first saw him? Hadn't he treated the boy with hatred and disrespect for years? Hadn't he committed as many and as vile crimes against Potter during the Occlumency lessons as Potter against him? Hadn't he seen the signs, the indications of abuse, and shrugged them off?

_What did he feel about Potter?_

How could one boy present such a conundrum to Severus Snape, jaded spy and Potions Master extraordinaire?

Did he deserve to be looked at in disgust for what he had done?

He was distracted from his musings by the sudden appearance of Summers Jr., Dumbledore, and Potter in Dumbledore's arms. He blinked once at the sight before springing his feet, attempting to take Potter from the old man's arms only to be rebuffed as Dumbledore gently placed him on the couch.

"Merlin, Albus, what happened?" he breathed, shocked at Potter's state. Not only was he battered, with a broken nose and an obviously dislocated shoulder, but he was also unconscious with tear streaks on his cheeks and blood oozing from scratches around his scar.

"I was hoping Ms. Summers could tell us," Albus said grimly.

Snape listened closely as Summers recounted the events of the past hour or so, refusing to acknowledge that that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach was not worry.

"How exactly was Harry injured?" Snape demanded. _Harry? Did I just say Harry?_

Buffy looked embarrassed. "He dislocated his arm when he was fighting a vampire," she explained. "And, well...I gave him the broken nose." Snape stared at her. "He almost got me killed!" she exclaimed defensively.

Snape and Dumbledore shared a _look_ that spoke of worry and disappointment.

"I don't understand. What happened to him?" Buffy asked.

"That broom, which you were so cavalierly about to destroy, is Potter's last memento of his deceased dogfather...I mean, godfather," Severus amended at Albus' reproving look. "It appears that, rather than allow you to destroy it, Potter destroyed a small part of himself by casting the most unforgivable of the Unforgivables."

She stared at him blankly.

"What Professor Snape is trying to say," Dumbledore interjected, "Is that Harry is suffering from an overpowering guilt attack. He's been prone to them for years, but this is the worst I've seen."

"That was a guilt trip?" she asked incredulously.

Dumbledore looked closely at her. He pursed his lips. "Harry has carried many burdens over the years, Ms. Summers, and he has claimed many more as his own to bear. He blames himself for many things which he could not have prevented; the deaths of his godfather, Sirius Black, and his best friends are foremost of those. The thought of losing his last remnant of his godfather, coupled with his use of _Avada__ Kedavra_, a curse which he had never used even against Voldemort, has pushed him over the edge."

"I've borne large burdens over the years, and I've never cracked," Buffy sniped.

Dumbledore looked piercingly at her over those glasses of his. "And have you known since you were eleven years old that a vicious, powerful, dark wizard was trying to kill you? Have you seen the people you cared most about killed and blamed yourself for it?"

Buffy looked away, not willing to answer or even acknowledge the frightening questions. She changed the subject. "How did Spike know that that was his godfather's broom?" sheinquired.

"He's probably read the books," Snape replied scornfully.

"Books?"

"Rita Skeeter, a notoriously unreliable reporter, has come out with a series of _Harry Potter_ books which are actually remarkably biographical. I do believe she's made a fortune off of them," Dumbledore explained.

"Indeed. Isn't it remarkable that Potter was followed around by a bug-woman for almost his entire life and never noticed," Snape sneered.

Dumbledore ignored him, instead looking down at Harry once again before sighing. "While I'm tempted to take Harry back with me to Hogwarts, I fear that doing so would erase any progress he might have made here in the past few days."

Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What progress?" He didn't shy in the slightest from the mild reproach in Albus' gaze.

"No, no," Dumbledore mused, "Well, there's nothing else for it; I shall have to stay in Sunnydale," he announced. He turned to Buffy. "Will there be a problem with me staying in your house?"

Buffy blinked. "Well, we only have the one guest room, and Professor Snape has been sleeping on the couch..."

"Hmmm," Dumbledore said. "Well, Severus," he decided, "I'm sure Rupert won't mind having you as a house guest. Why don't you give him a ring on the fellytone, and I'll get Harry situated upstairs in his room."

"Albus," Snape protested, "Don't you need to get Poppy here to heal up his shoulder and nose?"

"Really, Severus, do you have so little faith in my healing abilities?" Dumbledore chided. Not waiting for an answer, he carefully scooped Harry back into his arms and began to ascend the stairs, confident that he could find Harry's room.

"But Albus," Snape called from behind him, "Who will teach my classes at Hogwarts!"

"Don't worry, Severus," Dumbledore called back down in that soothing, reassuring voice of his. "I'll just send an acceptance to Gilderoy Lockhart's application to teach at Hogwarts again."

"WHAT!" the screech echoed through the house.

* * *

After Dumbledore had disappeared into Harry's room, Buffy turned to Snape and attempted to fulfill her duties as a host. "I'm sorry that you have to leave," she said. "I'm sure we'll miss you." 

Snape snorted. "Please. You've disliked me from the start and I've already convinced your mother that I'm an uncaring sod. Now, show me to the tell-a-phone and tell me how to use it so I can get out of here as soon as possible."

She rolled her eyes before leading him out of the room. "Jerk," she muttered under her breath.

She jumped when she heard his satisfied, "Quite right."

* * *

"There's a boy," Dumbledore said as he gently placed Harry on the bed. It should not have been so easy for a lively, but still, quite old, man like Dumbledore to carry a seventeen-year-old boy. He frowned a bit, knowing that he would need to pop Harry's arm back into its joint, and hoping that it would be a fairly easy process since Harry had had his arm dislocated more than once before. He carefully propped him into a sitting position, his head leaning on the older man's chest, took firm hold of the arm, and jerked it so that it slid smoothly back into position. Harry, who was still unconscious from his spell, did not react. 

Next came the setting of the nose, which was fairly easy, if a bit more unnerving since there was so much blood gushing before and after. Then, a general healing spell sent both wounds well on their way to healing and a cleaning spell removed most of the blood, dirt, and sweat which had accumulated over the course of the evening.

He sat down in a chair next to Harry's bed and wondered what to do next. He was afraid to _enervate_ Harry, since in all likelihood that would result in him resuming his attempts at self-mutilation and self-chastisement.

His gaze wandered around the spartan room, taking in Harry's trunk, which was open and still fully packed on the floor. Also on the floor was a medium-sized box with what looked like grass inside and a small opening perpendicular to the ground. Dumbledore realized this must be the nest that Harry provided for his charming pet snake. At the thought of pets, his eyes immediately turned to Fawkes, who had been sitting unobtrusively on his shoulder all this time.

"Can you do anything for him, old friend?" he asked. Fawkes trilled sadly before flying to land on Harry's chest. He curled up like a cat, his eyes closed. Although Dumbledore could not actually understand his familiar's wishes in words; nevertheless, he had learned over the years how to interpret his behavior. Thus, he understood now that Fawkes wished for him to leave them alone until he woke naturally. "Thank you, Fawkes," he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on the unconscious boy's forehead before leaving the room.

"Time to make the living room habitable," he murmured to himself.

* * *

When Joyce entered the house, having gone for a walk ("Yes, Buffy, I was carrying three crosses, I'm not an idiot, you know") to relieve her anger at that awful Snape man, she stopped dead at the sight of her living room. 

The room had been expanded; not by a huge amount, but enough that a bed had been placed behind the sofa-where the wall used to be-and a night stand placed where a side wall had previously been. She knew that the house looked exactly the same from the outside, and she began to fume. That-that-_Snape_-had gone around using magic to change _her_ house without asking permission. Why, if she hadn't been told that having Snape here would help poor Harry, she would have kicked him out already.

She was fully prepared to tell him off when he entered the living room/now-bedroom, but stopped short when she saw that it was not Snape entering at all, but a very old man with twinkling blue eyes and the most atrocious taste in clothing that she had ever seen.

He smiled. "You must be Joyce Summers! I hope that you don't mind me staying here; certain events have come to pass that necessitate my presence here."

"Snape...?" she asked.

"Severus has agreed to move in with Rupert Giles for the time being," Dumbledore explained.

"Good," she said shortly. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her clear dislike for the man. He knew that Snape inspired that feeling in many people, but he had thought that Severus would be on his best behavior while staying with the Summers. "That man has no sense of common decency," she sniped. "He didn't seem to care at all about the fact that poor Harry was abused, and he flat-out admitted to hating the boy because of his father."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, reminded of how often over the years he had tried to tell Severus that he was wrong to blame Harry for the sins of his father. "And just think," he said wryly, "He's much better about Harry now than he was just a few years ago."

She sniffed in disdain, obviously not comforted by that thought. Her brow furrowed. "Who exactly are you?" she asked.

"Oh, how remiss of me," Dumbledore said. He extended his hand. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the Headmaster at Harry's school."

She smiled and shook his hand. "Joyce Summers." She glanced around the living room again. "I love what you've done with the couch area," she said with a welcoming smile. "By the way, where are the kids?"

* * *

_Ding-dong_. _Ding-dong_. 

Giles rubbed his eyes tiredly. He must have fallen asleep researching again.

_Ding-dong_.

A voice muttered, "Is this bloody thing working? Bloody muggles."

_Ding-dong._

Giles opened the door just in time to see Snape reach out to ring the doorbell again. "Professor Snape? What are you doing here at this time of night?"

Snape sneered. "I'm your new roommate." He pushed past Giles into the house.

Giles blinked stupidly, trying to gather his wits about him. "Roommate...? What happened to staying at Buffy's house?"

"Albus evicted me. He's going to stay there until Potter stops being catatonic."

"Catatonic?" Giles gasped. "What happened?"

"Your Slayer assaulted him, that's what happened," Snape fumed. He forced himself to calm down when he realized that his anger could easily be interpreted as worry for the Potter brat.

"She what?" Giles demanded. He had never managed to get very angry with her in the past; he had always convinced himself that considering the burdens she had to carry she was a remarkably well-adjusted individual. However, in just the past day he had found himself beyond angry with her-furious, even.

Snape sighed. "Well, I suppose that wasn't the direct cause of his state, but it can't have helped."

"Are you deliberately avoiding talking about what happened?" Giles asked. "Sit down and tell me everything," he ordered, completely forgetting that it was now far past a decent hour of night.

For reasons he didn't understand, Snape complied. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next morning, Harry had still not awoken. Dumbledore had sat with him for most of the night and had resolved to sit with him for most of the day, as well, or as long as it took. Fawkes was still curled comfortably on Harry's chest, no doubt helping him heal mentally with his touch just as his tears could heal physical wounds. Alas that mental wounds were so much more complex. Buffy had gone to school, and, presumably, Severus and Rupert had done the same. 

He took Harry's hand in his, and, feeling how cold it was, chafed it lightly. "My dear boy," he said, "I am so sorry. For everything."

Harry's sleeve moved just a tiny bit, and Dumbledore braced himself, preparing for Harry to open his eyes and awaken. He was surprised, therefore, when Harry continued sleeping peacefully, but his clothing was disturbed slightly from his arm and then to his chest, almost as if something invisible was moving on it.

Something invisible. Of course!

Pointing his wand at where he thought the snake must be, Dumbledore said, "_Finite Incantem_."

And gasped.

The spell had not hit the snake, since he still could not see it. Instead, it had canceled out Harry's glamour charms, leaving his frail, fragile face revealed.

"Dear Merlin," Dumbledore whispered. "Why did you never tell us you had gotten to this state, Harry?"

The snake on his chest moved again, and this time Dumbledore's aim was true. The brightly colored coral snake which had become Harry's constant companion at Hogwarts over the past year was revealed, hissing in an agitated manner at its unconscious master.

Surprisingly, Harry seemed to respond. He shifted slightly, murmuring incoherently, and his emerald green eyes slowly slid open.

"'m not in the infirmary?" he asked muzzily, blinking up at his Headmaster and mentor through eyes that, though cured of their appalling shortsightedness last year by magic, still had some difficulty adjusting.

Dumbledore smiled in relief, his eyes suspiciously bright. "No, my dear boy, not the infirmary," he responded gently.

Harry nodded once. "'m sorry," he said, but the self-disgust in his tone was a bit lessened from where it had been last night.

"Harry, you have nothing to be sorry for," Dumbledore admonished lightly. "How are you feeling?"

"'m fine," he muttered, not making eye contact.

Dumbledore sighed at the obvious lie. He looked down at the boy to discover that he had fallen back asleep. He must have been even more sleep-deprived than he had thought.

He brushed his hand through Harry's hair lightly. "You're not fine, Harry," he said. "But I'll do anything to make sure that you will be."

Fawkes chirped in determined agreement.

* * *

Review Responses: 

_Heyster_: lol...when I wrote that profile, I never actually thought anyone'd like any of my stories enough to read it, or I wouldn't have included that, since I'm kinda embarrassed to talk about myself. Anyways, I _am_ a junior credit-wise and a sophomore year-wise at the University of Washington, and I am 17; the UW offers this amazing program called the Academy for Young Scholars where high school kids who are really sick of high school can apply to go to college two years early. I got in, and haven't regretted it since.

_Tandwyr_: Thanks; I said earlier that she was 17, but that was before I picked a time frame, and I was worried that I had given her the wrong age. Glad that I didn't commit Buffy-blasphemy. J

_Lady FoxFire_: Yes, Harry is wearing a glamour. I'd say she broke him pretty badly...hopefully nothing some nice therapy won't fix (er...I won't actually send him to a therapist, though). As to the rest...now that would be telling, wouldn't it?

_Agnus__ Dei_: I humbly apologize for calling Cordelia shallow. I think she's really the most complex of the Buffy characters, and I think she shows on BtVS that there's definitely a decent human being hid underneath the killer outfits, but there wasn't really enough time in three seasons to explore the complexities of her character. As to your other suggestions, I once again feel inclined to admit that they probably won't happen. Although, I admit that the idea of Joyce adopting Harry is an interesting one, and I'll let it simmer in my brain for a while before I see what the characters decide they want to do.

_Whimsy007_: Everyone's pushing for Harry/Cordy, aren't they? I'm surprised. I won't rule the idea out completely, but don't get your hopes up.

Also thanks to Tutorwife123 (as you command, so do I update), DuShuZhi (isn't Spike awesome? There'll be plenty of him to come), bandgsecurtiyaw, A-man, ghyt, Alynna Lis Eachann, Werewolves are People Too, leontine-456, Charmina, SaerinSedai, crazy-weasley, Samurai Demon-God Sekikage, windy river, old-crow, Overchay, Night-Owl123, d Maxwell, travis, crazy-lil-nae-nae, and Nippledora Tweaks for your reviews! Hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

* * *

Please Review!


	9. Interlude I: Abandon All Hope Ye Who Ent...

Note: The bunny that I tried to rescue just died. That's why I'm depressed enough to write this interlude right now. Let me know what you think of the format (the lack of punctuation and the run-on sentences are on purpose).

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Harry Potter, or _Dante's Inferno_, from which the title of this interlude is taken.

* * *

Interlude I: Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here 

_He burned _

_His scar was a hot poker on his forehead his limbs and torso were agonizingly enflamed even his hair and fingernails ached with unending torment _

_It was worse than _crucio

_He laboriously opened his eyes, unable to shield them from the blistering heat emanating from the ground and smothering him from the sky and burning the very core of his being, engulfing his soul and leaving only ashes behind_

_He was in a maelstrom_

_He could have been in a cupboard or a room or a box, but the floor was the ceiling and the ceiling was the floor and the colors were swirling, purples and blues that had no place in a fire and yet burned him nevertheless, and the faces, oh, God, the faces, they were everywhere, jeering, mocking, disappointed, accusing, _as they should be, as they should be

_There-his parents, whose faces glared at him, whose eyes burned into him like ice, piercing him to the bone Their lips moved but no sound emerged, but he could see what they were trying to say, the same words which he had said so many times, _your fault, your fault, your fault

_Oh, and Sirius was with them, but his face was not angry, only surprised, the same surprise as when he had fallen through the veil, surprise that he had died for such a coward, such a weak individual, surprise that he was still living despite the flames which had surely charred his flesh and bared his bones_

_And Ron and Hermione were there, suddenly looming over him with their small, so breakable forms, and when he finally summoned the strength to reach up to touch them, their flesh-what was left of it-sizzled and burned and their faces contorted in agony, and their lips formed the words that he had asked so many times, _why, why, why

_The torment was unbearable now, and he didn't know how he could still be conscious, if he was conscious, but he must be because this place-this place, this hell, this place that he deserved, this was the real place, and that place of occasional warmth, of that fanciful dream of love was all in his imagination_

_The faces were coming faster now, so fast that he could not possibly acknowledge each with the guilt that he felt, the pain that he deserved for their deaths-Cedric Diggory, _not a spare, not a spare_, he tried to sob through a throat too dry to make a noise and lips which cracked and bled at the slightest movement-Justin Finch-Fletchley, recognizable only because his face had been so maimed and destroyed that he could be no one else, but he made no accusation through lips which no longer existed, yet his single eye spoke of all the hatred that he deserved_

_Hannah Abbot's specter was there, but he could not see her, did not know, _dear God, how could he not know, _what she looked like in death, he had lead her to her death but had not attended her funeral_ _and he felt her hot tears as they dripped onto his forehead, burning like acid, passing through his skin_

_How could he be alive? How could anyone survive this all-consuming agony?_

_Beyond the dead were the ones who truly haunted him_

_Luna Lovegood, her once-distant eyes now focused almost cross-eyed on the livid scar that cut between them, but then her face shifted, her expression turning agonized as her face elongated, her teeth grew and sharpened, and the wolf that leapt from the space where she had been and raked his body with its burning cold claws howled with incoherent rage_

_Mrs. Weasley, whom he had only ever once called _mum_, she was trying to cry, she was succeeding, great tears sliding down her face, but how could any moisture, even tears, especially tears, exist in this place? The worst pain, as her lips moved in the words he had heard so many times, _Not your fault, not your fault, not your fault, _they sliced through him, tearing through skin and sinew and bone and somehow he managed to scream_

_Remus__, dear Remus, the last of his father-figures, the only whom he hadn't killed, so sad, so sad, _I'm so sorry, so sorry you are all alone

_Snape__, his obsidian eyes burned, _just like your father, arrogant bastard, _and he would have nodded, would have agreed but he had no neck any more, could not move_

_But then the others, the living ones, they surrounded him, suffocating him, what were they doing? they could not, no, Merlin, why are they doing this! They were so close, so many of them, so tightly packed, and the flames could find no air to breathe, and they were beginning to die out, and how could they do this to him? Didn't they know this was where he was supposed to be?_

_McGonagall was there, looking sad, and Ginny Weasley, Neville, Colin Creevy, the entire DA, all these _people_, these living people, they did not belong in this place, this pace of no hope, why should Hagrid, loving, wonderful Hagrid, be in this hell_

_The one he was most afraid of disappointing, of hurting, stepped forward, and Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on his forehead, almost lovingly, but how was that possible? Could not be, could not be, but then he kissed his forehead, and where his lips touched his scar he was horrified to feel blessed relief, a soothing balm spreading from the lightning bolt throughout his entire body, healing and scouring_

_He did not understand how could they not hate him they should hate him he would get them all killed to he WANTED THE FIRE BACK_

_But the absence of pain was so beautiful, so peaceful, so calm, and he wanted to hate himself for enjoying it but how could he hate himself for wanting it without hating Dumbledore for forcing it on him and he could not hate Albus, no matter what he had done to him_

_Albus__ was standing only a short distance away, almost close enough to touch-he was close enough to touch, and Harry could not stop himself he reached out to the old man, who took his hand_

_The flames, blocked out by the mass of people subsided completely, and from the tiniest ember a phoenix, _as beautiful as Fawkes, but not Fawkes_, emerged and landed on his chest, such a wonderful feeling, a comfortable weight, a protector where his pain-riddled heart resided_

_The phoenix warbled once, and Hell disappeared in a flash of white light._

* * *

Please Review!


	10. Awakening

Note: You may have noticed that I've changed my pen name; the original pen name was a ridiculous one I came up with when I didn't think anyone'd actually read my fanfiction. Dens serpentis is Latin for "serpent's tooth," which I took from the _King Lear_ line "how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is/To have a thankless child!" My parents foolishly named me after one of the evil daughters in said play.

Review responses for both the interlude and chapter 8 are at the bottom of this page.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer

* * *

Chapter Nine: Awakening 

Harry opened his eyes laboriously, half-expecting and fearing to find himself back in the maelstrom, or, as usual, in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was in his room at Buffy's house. With the ease of practice he took stock of his body, testing for injuries. There was a heavy weight on his chest, similar to the weight of the phoenix in hishe didn't know what to call it. Was it a dream?A physical manifestation of his inner turmoil?A brief transportation to another realm?

He felt Silas, his pet snake and good friend, curled loosely around his left wrist. His right shoulder and his nose both ached slightly, and he remembered being wounded fighting a vampire and then getting punched by Buffy. His cheeks were warm and wet where tears had streaked them. His right hand was numb, and when he looked at it he found that it was being held in a death-grip by Professor Dumbledore, who had fallen asleep and was lightly snoring in a chair beside his bed.

Dumbledore? What was he doing here? Harry frowned, and vaguely remembered waking in this room once before with Dumbledore beside him.

For that matter, what had happened? He remembered fighting a vampire, and then turning and seeing Buffy about to destroy his Firebolt...dear Merlin, he had cast the Killing Curse. To save a stupid broom. Well, not such a stupid broom, one that meant more to him than almost anything, actually, but, still...

Was Dumbledore here to take him to Azkaban? It seemed unlikely that _Dumbledore_, who had always been so warm toward him, would willingly participate in his incarceration, but he couldn't be sure, not when his crime had been so great. Was he finally to be punished for his many crimes, for all the people who had died because of him? Was he to be sent to the place where his worst moments would be relived over and over again until he was immersed in the maelstrom for good and there was no hope of ever coming out again?

He felt his thoughts begin to tumble out of control, and his breathing quicken in fear at the thought of both what he had done and what the consequences would be. He could almost _feel_ his mind slipping, heading back towards the terrifying madness that was his guilt and self-loathing made tangible, and gave a single mental cry for help before losing his grip on this reality and falling...

...only to have an answering mental presence latch firmly onto his own and yank him back to sanity with a single, beautiful, pure trill. His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked around frantically, searching for the source of the beautiful sound, since the only phoenix in sight was Fawkes, who appeared to still be sleeping and who he had never made mental contact with anyway, since that was Fawkes' bonded's (Dumbledore's) prerogative.

There was no sign of another phoenix, but Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised, since phoenixes only bonded with those of pure heart, and he had proven clearly enough last night that he had no such thing.

He must have shifted slightly at the terrifying, sickening thought that he had performed that terrible curse, the curse that had killed his parents, the curse that had killed Cedric, the curse that had snatched Ron and Hermione's souls from this earth, for Dumbledore gave a little snort and opened his eyes.

When he saw Harry watching him cautiously, he gave a soft smile. "My dear boy," he murmured, and his soothing voice somehow washed away his fears and reinforced his spirit, "Welcome back."

Despite himself, Harry could not help but smile tentatively in return.

* * *

"Summers! Don't you ignore me, Summers!" 

Buffy closed her eyes, either in disbelief at her misfortune or a silent prayer for patience, it was impossible to tell, as she turned to face her detestable principal. She had only had to make it to the doors before she could be free for the entire lunch period, but Snyder had caught her only seconds from freedom. She hadn't even done anything wrong recently! She forced a strained smile onto her face in response to his angry-looking rat-like visage.

"Principal Snyder," she greeted flatly.

He glared at her out of his beady eyes, the reflection of the fluorescent ceiling lights blinding from the bald part of his head. "Where is he?" he demanded.

She blinked. _Who?_ "Who?" she asked.

"Don't give me any of that lip of yours, Summers," he said, sounding irritated (which wasn't at all different from how he usually sounded). "The exchange student! The British boy who's here to shape up all the rest of you miscreants!" He peered at her suspiciously. "You didn't kill him, did you?" She arched an eyebrow in amusement at the question before shaking her head. "You didn't eat him, shove a spike through his heart, drink his blood, or, worse, get him addicted to PCP?" Buffy blinked. Shook her head. Fought back a genuine grin.

"I see," he said stiffly, a suspicious gleam still in his eyes.

"Why did you wanna know?" Buffy asked.

He looked surprised that she had to ask. "You're a troublemaker!" he exclaimed. "You burned down your school's gym! You and your druggy gang ruined parent-teacher night two years ago! You skip school and generally act as a nuisance! Of course you're the first one I'd ask when that role model student, Harry Trotter, didn't show up to school today!"

She cocked her head to one side. "Is this your way of asking me where he is?" she asked perplexedly. She hated the man and wanted to spend as little time as possible in his presence, but if this was about Harry she figured she might as well figure out what his problem was.

He glared. "You said you didn't know where he was!"

"I said that I hadn't killed him or made him into a druggy," she corrected. "He is, however, staying at my house. He was...ill...and was unable to come to school today."

Snyder groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, apparently in thought-if he was capable of it-before he threw his hands into the air with a sigh of disgust. "I knew it! I knew he was too good to be true." He stuck one pointer finger in Buffy's direction, perilously close to her mouth, as he berated, "I know the slang you _teenagers_-" he spat the word as if it were a curse "-use when you skip school! Staying home ill means he's high on drugs! I knew it! I'll have his hide for this! Just because he has a wannabe-sexy British accent doesn't mean he can act all high and mighty around here! I'll show him who's boss!"

Buffy managed to escape in the middle of his tirade, noting to herself that she hadn't seen Snyder foaming at the mouth like this since he had been forced to rescind her expulsion earlier this year.

It was too bad that he was going to come down on Harry for this, though. Although she still didn't know what to think of the kid, and had decided that they needed to have a nice, long chat if he ever awoke from his catatonic state, she wouldn't wish a wrathful Snyder on even her worst enemy, except maybe Spike.

Harry was lucky to have a principal like Dumbledore. He seemed to actually like kids. He could run circles around _Snyder_.

She stopped in her tracks. A wicked grin formed on her face.

Oh, yes, that thought had _great_ potential.

* * *

"What are you doing here, Professor?" Harry asked, hearing a strange hoarseness in his voice that had nothing to do with physical pain. 

Dumbledore smiled slightly, the warmth reaching his eyes but the amusement not, and said, "I came because you needed me, of course, Harry." Harry simply stared at him implacably with his impossibly green eyes, demanding a complete explanation, and Dumbledore looked away, chuckling a little under his breath. He knew that his own eyes often had that effect on others, but being on the receiving end was a relatively new experience for him. "At about 8:00 p.m. your time last night I felt that you had performed a great amount of dark magic," he explained.

"You felt it?" Harry asked, confused.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid that most of the Wizarding world felt it, Harry," he confessed. "It was a very powerful spell."

Harry nodded slightly. "Am I to be taken to Azkaban, then?" he asked resignedly.

Dumbledore blinked in shock. "Azkaban?" he repeated incredulously. "My dear boy, of course not! You must know that I would not let them do that to you!"

"I used an Unforgivable," Harry said stubbornly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, as if talking to a slow child, "You cast _Avada Kedavra_ in self-defense, against a _vampire_. No Wizarding court would condemn you for that."

Harry seemed to latch on to his choice of words. "Would not condemn _me_ for that?" he asked. "Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?" He laughed harshly. "Headmaster, you know as well as anyone that I would rather fairly go to Azkaban than be pardoned because of my fame."

"Harry," Dumbledore said sternly, peering down at him from over his glasses, "I think that in this case anyone would be released without conviction and perhaps even without a warning. You are doubly safe, however, in that you were granted honorary Auror status, as you well know, by the Ministry for your defeat of Voldemort. Aurors are granted the right to use the Unforgivables in situations where they deem it necessary, as long as they can prove that the one they used it against was endangering themselves or someone else." Harry looked about to protest, but Dumbledore raised his hand-the one not still holding Harry's-to silence him. "Harry, whether or not you were in direct danger from the vampire, the fact remains that it _was_ a vampire you killed, and not one with a soul. By any definition, that vampire was a danger, and you took steps to eliminate its threat."

Harry nodded grudgingly and looked down at his chest, where Fawkes was still curled up, although he was no longer asleep. Dumbledore gently grabbed his chin and tilted Harry's face up so that he was looking into Dumbledore's eyes. "You carry so many burdens, dear boy," he whispered, "I would take them from you if I could. Please do not add to those burdens by taking undeserved guilt upon yourself."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how to behave any other way."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I know, child." His eyes looked distant for a moment before he patted Harry's knee. "I almost forgot to ask-how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. At Dumbledore's piercing look, he insisted, "I'm fine! A little sore, but I'm fine!"

"There's something else we need to talk about, as well, Harry," Dumbledore said carefully. Harry looked worried. "In an attempt to restore your snake to visibility earlier, I accidentally removed a glamour spell you were wearing. How long have you gone without sleeping or eating, Harry?"

Harry pursed his lips, jerking his head slightly in irritation. "I eat every day," he said fiercely, "and I sleep as much as I can. I'm _fine_, Headmaster."

"I have been loath to abstain from talking to you about the many things troubling you in the past, Harry," Dumbledore said, "But I did so because I believed you needed time alone. I can no longer do so in good conscience. I cannot sacrifice your physical well-being for your emotional one." Harry was unhappy with the idea of Dumbledore interfering with his personal life, and it showed in his face. "I care about you, dear boy," Dumbledore informed him quietly.

"I-I know," Harry said quietly. "I think I just realized that while I slept." He frowned a little. "Headmaster, have you seen another phoenix around recently?"

"Another phoenix?" Dumbledore sounded surprised. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

Harry shook his head as if to rid himself of certain thoughts. "I've just been...hearing one around lately. I'm probably just imagining things."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up. "Really? That _is_ good news."

In the short time that followed before Harry reluctantly fell asleep once again, Dumbledore's eyes maintained a mischievous light and he refused to explain further; however,since Dumbledore's refusal talk seemed directly connected to the fact that he had abruptly and inexplicably ceased interrogating Harry, Harry let it rest.

After he was sure that Harry was slumbering deeply, Dumbledore carefully tucked the boy in before standing, transfiguring his robes into brightly-colored muggle clothing (i.e. a Hawaiian t-shirt, khaki shorts, and neon green socks over a pair of Birkenstocks), before allowing Fawkes to land on his shoulder and transport him to Sunnydale High School, where that delightful Buffy Summers told him there was a certain person he just had to meet.

* * *

"Can't thisload of bat-dung move any faster? You're already hours late! Why in Merlin's name do you even own this piece of junk?" 

"Oh, that's just rich coming from you, you bloody nuisance, when you're the reason we're late!"

"Me? How dare you? You-you-_muggle_!"

"What a clever insult; I stand in awe of the wit of the great Severus Snape. It's no wonder you killed my microwave."

"Is that what you call it? I call it a menace! That object was dangerous and probably riddled with Dark Magic. I did the world a service by destroying it, you nitwit."

"Indeed. And the bathtub's crime was...?"

"It had two handles! _Two_! No self-respecting bathtub needs more than one handle! I almost contracted pneumonia from that horrendous device! As though you can speak, anyway, when you contaminated my entire stock of dragon livers with that sludge you call 'tea.'"

"Your dragon livers were in my tea pot, you bloody imbecile! Of course I put tea in there!"

"Bollocks! What else was I supposed to use to brew my Dreamless Sleep potion? Besides, what kind of an idiot doesn't check inside his tea pot before putting the tea inside? How could you have missed the smell?"

"That's what it usually smells like! It's not my fault American tea is so horrid! And there will be no more brewing of potions in my tea pot; it's unsanitary!"

"Hardly as unsanitary as that _refigidator_. Keeping your food in a place like that, it's a wonder you're still alive! Bloody muggles."

"Just because you don't understand how it works nor its purpose does not mean that it is a faulty object, Snape. It's a wonder _you're _still alive, since you seem incapable of deciphering the use of even the simplest of devices."

"Simple? You call that _tell-a-vision_ simple? Do you know how many buttons there were on that remote? They weren't even in English! They bore arcane and obscure symbols which probably have some demonic history!"

"So, naturally you had to kick the television."

"Of course. Would you have preferred that I hex it? How far are we from the school?"

"Another ten minutes. At least the car still works."

_Cough. Cough. Wooooosh._

"What did you just do?"

"I cast a _celerita_ charm to speed it up. It should have halved our time."

"You tried to charm my car."

"You can fix it, can't you? You were just telling me how foolish _I _was for not being able to use simple devices; here's your chance to prove your skills."

"You just killed my car, you moron!"

"I was trying to help, git!"

"Berk!"

"Twit!"

"Prat!"

"Muggle!"

"Wizard!"

_Three minutes later:_

"What now?"

"I suppose we'll have to walk. I have to at least show up today, to appease Snyder."

"I don't walk. I stride."

"Whatever."

_Two minutes later:_

"You sounded like a teenage American girl just then."

"Shut up."

_Thirty minutes later:_

"Rupert! Severus! How delightful to see you! You look like you're in good spirits! I was just popping in for a chat with Principal Snyder. I'm surprised to see you coming in this late, though; you haven't been having any difficulties, have you? Would either of you like a lemon drop?"

* * *

Review Responses:

_Lady FoxFire:_ Isn't it a sign of how much Dumbledore cares for Harry, that he slipped up and left a vampire body just lying around? LOL...oops?

_Hpstoryguy: _Buffy's getting there, never fear.

_Agnus Dei_: About the snake, I sort of introduced him in the first chapter, just mentioning him in passing, and then promptly forgot about him. I realized my mistake when I was writing chapter 8, and decided to get him back in there any way I could.

Also thanks to Night-Owl123 (I was really bummed about the bunny's death; everything seemed to be going really well, and then he just got sick, and _poof!_ No more bunny), mllememoire, Tutorwife23 (sorry for the delay in update... -), also, glad you liked the last chapter, it's great to know you felt that way, since that's what I was going for), DuShuZhi (glad you're liking it!), bangdsecurtiyaw, old-crow, Vicky .H, Night Walker1, A-man, Werewolves are People Too (sorry if the last chapter was confusing; it was meant to be at least a bit perplexing, though, so glad that worked), Dragonic (wait and see), Windy River, Nymphe, opalish (wow! I was kinda shocked when I saw that you had reviewed my fic. It's, well, an honor, really. I love your Invictus-even if we're not supposed to say it's wonderful. Thanks for reviewing!), shakiya, Musings-of-Apathy (thanks for your comments on length, you're absolutely right), Lunatic Pandora1, leontine-456, gazette, HecateDeMort, andtravis for your reviews; they're much appreciated!

* * *

Please Review!


	11. The Happiest Place on Earth

Note: Does anyone know Snyder's first name? Did they ever reveal it during Buffy?

I'm glad everyone liked the Giles/Snape interaction! There will definitely be much more banter between them to come.

I'm not sure if the Dumbledore/Snyder scene this chapter is too silly; I want to reassure y'all that this is still at heart a drama/angst-type fic, and any and all silliness will be centered in characters like Dumbledore who are inherently rather silly.

This chapter is Harry-free! I couldn't believe that I'd write one without my favorite character, but there you have it. He'll be back next chapter, never fear!

Sorry not much actually happens in this chapter, but it needed to be written. More action coming soon!

Is anyone interested in being my beta-reader? Mostly I'd like someone who can catch any spelling, grammatical, or plot mistakes I might make, and who can edit and get a chapter back to me within 24 hours.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, or Disney Land (er...don't worry, they don't actually go to Disney Land in this or any chapter).

* * *

Chapter Ten: The Happiest Place on Earth 

_Previously_:

_"Rupert! Severus! How delightful to see you! You look like you're in good spirits! I was just popping in for a chat with Principal Snyder. I'm surprised to see you coming in this late, though; you haven't been having any difficulties, have you? Would either of you like a lemon drop?"_

Dumbledore knew that he was grinning rather madly (it was an expression that all who knew him at all had come to fear, since it tended to signal that he had some scheme afoot), but he couldn't help himself. His conversation with Harry had reassured him that, while Harry was in no way well, he would be, someday, and he was no longer in immediate danger of..._drastic action._His mind naturally shied away from the more permanent term. The sight of Rupert Giles and Severus Snape glaring daggers at each other as they stumbled to the school at 2:00 p.m. (just an hour or so before school was dismissed) simply compounded his joy at this moment. The fact that his jovial greeting caused them both to turn their glares on him did nothing to lessen his happiness, since over the years he had grown immune to Severus' glares, and Giles' was just weak compared to his companion's.

"Albus," Severus snapped in greeting. Dumbledore couldn't tell if his grumpy disposition was because of his companion, lingering disgust at the thought of Gilderoy Lockhart teaching his classes, or because he was Severus Snape and that's how he always was. Possibly all three, he supposed.

"Albus," Giles snapped irritably in greeting. Dumbledore couldn't tell if _his_ grumpy disposition was because of his companion, lingering disgust at the thought of Severus Snape living in his home, or because he was with Severus Snape and Severus always had that effect on people. Probably all three, he decided.

"I'm going to the library," Giles huffed. "I will see you both later...preferably much later." He turned and stalked through the school doors in an adequate imitation of Severus' usual method of walking.

"I can't believe that you've done this to me, Albus," Severus said. "After everything I've done for our cause over the years, you have the gall to stick me living with a _muggle_?"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore chided, "I thought you'd overcome this hatred of muggles and muggle-borns. Didn't you realize the error of that thinking twenty years ago?"

"My hatred or lack thereof for muggles is hardly the point," Severus hissed. "The _point_, _Albus_, is that I have never taken muggle studies, nor have I indulged any hidden fascination with muggle objects in my 39 years of living as a _wizard_especially as I have had no such hidden fascinations to indulge in. It was one thing living in the same house as Potter, who is at least competent in explaining how to use an object, and quite another to be sent to live with a muggle who is most definitely _not_ competent."

Dumbledore grinned brightly, the twinkle in his eye blinding. "Haven't you always said in your own defense that learning something practically and by experimentation is the best way to make it stick? Here's a chance for you to learn using that method yourself!" Severus just glared sourly at him. "Now, off you go to the library, Severus," he shooed him, "I need to go speak with the principal."

Snape grumbled as he stalked away, "Fine. But if I kill that obnoxious Giles or burn down his house, I will not be held responsible."

He growled when he heard Albus' rejoinder: "Oh, Severus, you're always good for a laugh!"

* * *

Willow was walking down the halls hurriedly, annoyed at Buffy for waylaying her between classes and making her late for her last class of the day, and had actually hurried past the strangely-dressed old man strolling out of a side corridor when she heard him call out, "Willow Rosenberg?" 

She skidded to a halt, eyes wide, and slowly turned to face him. The last time a man she'd never met had recognized her and called her by name like that, she'd nearly been convinced to forego the rest of her high school experience and sign on as a blooming genius in "the world's leading software concern." It was for this reason that she couldn't quite stop herself from blurting out, having remembered the name of the man who had been on his way to see her, personally, to convince her, "Did Mr. McCarthy send you?"

The old man blinked, and she instantly felt rather stupid. As if a leading software firm would employ someone wearing..._that_. Of course, if he was the head of the firm, he could probably wear whatever he wanted. And he would probably have to be pretty old to have gotten such a high position. In fact, _this_ was probably Mr. McCarthy himself! What if she had wanted to go work with them after high school! Now that would be impossible, since she had been so rude! He probably had the power to convince all the other firms not to hire her, either! She'd probably end up working at Hot Dog on a Stick, like Snyder had threatened Buffy that one time!

She was only aware that she had begun to hyperventilate when she heard him ask her, "Ms. Rosenberg? Are you all right? I assure you, I don't know any McCarthy."

She took a deep gasp of breath as she began to feel her heart rate recede. "How do you know my name?" she gasped.

He smiled reassuringly. "Your name and picture was included in the Wizenmagot's Investigative Report into your activities of a year ago," he explained. "I recognized you and just wanted to ensure that we would have a chance for a little chat later."

She nodded, still breathing deeply. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me," he said charmingly, "My name is Albus Dumbledore."

She choked. Paled. Stammered, "Dumbledore? Oh, God. Albus Dumbledore? Uh...I've got to go!" And ran off, leaving him staring bemusedly after her.

* * *

Principal Snyder sat in his slightly elevated chair behind his official-looking desk and attempted to peer superiorly down his nose at the strange man sitting across from him. This wasn't entirely possible, since his visitor was substantially taller than him, to the point that even with the aid of the chair's extra height his head was several inches lower than the other man. Nevertheless, he thought that he pulled off the narrowing of his eyes and the flaring of his nostrils well enough to convey to the man that he, Principal Snyder, was in charge here. 

Said visitor was sitting calmly across from him, dressed in a ridiculous outfit and sucking on a lemon drop. The dignity lent to him by the length of his beard was utterly negated by the blaring colors of his shirt.

Of course, the most prominent item in the kook's appalling outfit was perched jauntily atop his heada Goofy hat with the muzzle jutting out front while the ears hung down from either side.

"So, why are you here, Mr...?" Snyder asked.

The old man grinned, slurped his lemon drop, and said, "Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore. Professor Albus Dumbledore, actually."

"Professor?" Snyder asked. It was like the invasion of the Brits! First that infernal librarian, who had caused him more than his fair share of trouble over the years, then that Trotter brat who had almost gotten on his good side (what there was of it), and now this kooky old man.

"I'm the Headmaster at young Harry Potter's school," Dumbledore explained, that vacuous grin still on his face. His eyes were briefly drawn upward as, just for a moment, Snyder could have sworn that the Goofy on the old man's hat had moved, of its own accord. Impossible!

"Harry Potter, huh?" Snyder asked evilly. "Quite the troublemaker he is. I'm certain that he's addicted to PCP."

Dumbledore blinked. Goofy winked. Snyder bit back a gasp.

"PCP?" Snyder painfully drew his eyes back from the stuffed animal hat thing to focus on the old man's confused expression.

"Oh, yes. Don't tell me you haven't heard of PCP?" Clearly, this man was an incompetent principal, if he hadn't heard of PCP! Any adult who dealt with teenagers should know the things they get themselves involved in. And shouldn't wear hats that moved. Not that this one had! That was impossible.

"No, no, can't say I have, my friend," the idiot said genially. He popped another lemon drop in his mouth. Goofy smacked his lips as though he could taste the treat. Snyder looked away. Crazy. Talking with this crazy man must be driving him crazy.

"Very, very dangerous, PCP," he rambled, looking away from Goofy's eyes, which, alarmingly, had begun to twinkle at him. "Kids get addicted to it, they do all sorts of crazy things. All kids are monsters, you know. Causing trouble, telling lies, destroying property...I think that Trotter's probably one of the worst I've seen."

Abruptly, Goofy's eyes narrowed menacingly at him, although the old man's countenance maintained its expression of vacant cheerfulness. "Indeed?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "I've always found Harry to be a good student and the best young man I've had the pleasure of knowing."

"Hmph," Snyder snorted instinctively. Goofy glared even harder, and the sparks that seemed to fly from his eyes were quite different from the pleased twinkle he had seen earlier. "Er...that is..." He forced himself to look at the old man's face. He looked oblivious to the by-play between his hat and the principal. He coughed. "Perhaps I'm wrong about him," he attempted cautiously. Goofy's eyes ceased to glare and his mouth relaxed into its original goofy grin.

"I'm sure you were just mistaken," Dumbledore agreed happily. "In fact, I think most children are really quite delightful when you get to know them, wouldn't you agree?"

Still cautiously eyeing the hat, Snyder said, "Um...sure. I mean, of course!"

"Excellent," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Well, I think that takes care of everything I needed to talk to you about. Would you like a lemon drop before I go?"

Did Goofy want him to accept? He was still grinning. Well, he might as well, just in case... "Uh, thank you," he said, accepting the offered sweet.

"I'll be going, then," Dumbledore announced, and Snyder breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, get that demon out of his office! "Oh, one more thing," the old man said. "I noticed during our interview that you were staring quite avidly at my little friend." He took the hat off his head. "If you like it that much, certainly, you must keep it," he effused. "I have twenty more where he came from; I got rather overenthusiastic on my last visit to Disney World! Cheerio!" He placed the hat on the corner of Snyder's desk and bounced out the door.

Snyder, however, was oblivious to his leaving as he stared, mesmerized, at Goofy and could have sworn that Goofy stared back.

* * *

"You'll never believe who I just saw!" Willow exclaimed as she burst through the doors to the library, only to come to a halt at the aggravated looks on the faces of both men. 

"Come in, Willow," Giles bade her tiredly. "Please, distract me from Professor's Snape's fascinating company."

"Oh, quit complaining, you fool," Snape snapped. "Just because I pointed out that your calculations for the location of Odiminis' summoning point cannot possibly be correct"

"They are! I've checked them time and again, and I promise you that they are accurate down to the last half-inch, you, you twerp!"

"Can't you hear yourself, man? Do you even realize what you just said? You said 'nearest half-inch,' when of course Reginald was a British prophet and would have prophesized using the metric system! You must do all the calculations again using centimeters!"

"Just because I bloody know how to _use_ inches and feet as a measurement system"

"Why can't you admit that you're completely wrong"

"You know-it-all"

"You infuriating"

"Absurd"

"Insufferable"

"Incorrigible"

"Prat!" They exclaimed simultaneously, glaring at each other furiously.

"Uh, guys?" Willow intervened. "Did you know that Albus Dumbledore is _here_? In _Sunnydale__ High_?"

"Dumbledore!" Giles snarled, not in surprise, but in pure anger.

"Dumbledore!" Snape growled, gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"I guess that would be a yes, then," Willow said tentatively, shrinking before the force of their combined glare.

* * *

Allegra banked gently as she flew past an old mansion, her magical vision easily penetrating thick curtains to see the handsome dead man walking about inside. She disappeared in a flash of flames as she transported herself to a graveyard, this time peering through the walls of a mausoleum, disapprovingly watching this dead man as he drank himself into a stupor. 

She turned her head as she felt another of her kind approach, and warbled in greeting, basking in the return chirps.

Together, the two phoenixes soared gracefully into the air and through the light clouds, singing quietly as they went.

* * *

So, I kind of lied about Angel and Spike being in this chapter. Sorry. They are coming, though! 

Review Responses:

_Opalish_: First off, Teri, please don't _ever_ apologize for a long review! As you said, those are more gratifying than any other kind (although I, too, certainly don't mind a "ur cool plz continue"). And, OK, so maybe it's not an _honor_, per say, but it's still really nice to receive a review from someone who writes as well as you do. Snyder calling anything "sexy" is a bit disturbing, I admit, but the BtVS episode Band Candy made me think he'd definitely be jealous of a British accent, since the girls all fall for it (theoretically). Of course, feel free to use that line if you like it...you're right, "stalk" is the better term, so I used it in this chapter. Spike won't be a complete wimpprobably not much of a wimp at all. I love his character. As to a Giles/Snape pairing, that would be hilarious, and I could see it happening, but I just don't think I'd be able to write it. Maybe I'll leave it so that anyone who likes the idea of the pairing can imagine what's going on beyond the scenes when they're not bickering :-) Hope you like the Dumbledore/Snyder interaction this chapter! I wasn't exactly sure how to write it, so I hope it works this way!

_Lunatic Pandora1_: Hmmm...that's an interesting suggestion, but then how do you explain how her curse to give Angel his soul back worked? The phoenix will be explained very soon, I promise!

_HecateDeMort_ Well, I figure that Willow's been dabbling in witchcraft, etc. for some time now, and, as she's a very studious person, she's probably absorbed anything she can find about magic. Naturally, she could hardly do so without hearing about the Boy-Who-Lived. As for Angel and Spike, as vampires they've both been exposed to the idea of magic and other worlds, and they've been around for a long time, so they've learned a lot about the magical world. I briefly toyed with the idea of Spike being a Malfoy ancestor, and still might do so.

Also thanks to gaul1, DuShuZhi (glad you liked it!), Dragonic (LOL...that would be amusing...and disturbing...), bandgsecurtiyaw, Werewolves are People Too, Tutorwife123 (I'm glad you liked that scene! I was unsure of it at first, since I don't want this fic to become too silly, but it seemed to fit. Thanks as always for your glowing review, and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint.), Night-Owl123, Lady FoxFire (definitely), old-crow (thanks for your comments, and I'll definitely do some more Snape/Giles interaction!), gazette (this is **not a Buffy/Harry fic** as I've stated many times before), Windy River, Metropolis-Rising (thanks for your articulate and helpful review. Here's a bit of Willow/Dumbledore interaction for you, and there'll be more Harry/Willow interaction to come), A-man, DaughterofDeath, leila, and your biggest fan for your reviews!

* * *

Please Review!


	12. Explanations, Part 1

Note: Pardon the wait, everyone, but the imminent approach of finals week at school has been limiting my writing time. You can probably anticipate longer chapters but less frequent updates for a little while to come, although, as always, no promises!

Thanks so much to my new beta-reader, opalish!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Explanations, Part 1 

Harry stared up at the ceiling. He had been dozing on and off all day since Dumbledore had left, and each time he woke he felt slightly more rejuvenated- physically, not mentally. He sighed. His mental state, while relatively stable at the moment, was still distinctly depressed, as it had been for some time- and as he was certain it would remain.

He reached up with his uninjured arm and opened his ever-present locket, holding it in front of his face. Ron and Hermione looked so happy in the pictures: Ron with his cheeks even redder than usual, his hair windswept from Quidditch practice, and Hermione pretending to hide her nose in a book even as she flashed a quick grin at the camera. Neither picture moved, since he had placed a freezing charm on them after his friends' deaths. He couldn't bear to watch their life-like replicas on paper move as they had moved.

He gently touched his thumb to each picture, a caress mocked by the coldness that he felt in response.

"Harry?" a sibilant voice hissed, and he looked down in surprise to see that Silas had uncoiled from his wrist and slithered up his chest so that he could look his friend in the eye.

"Yessss, Sssilass?" Harry hissed in return, quickly swiping a hand across his eyes to displace any errant tears that might have leaked out.

"Are you alright?" Harry smiled slightly at the snake's concern. The snake had come into his possession only a few days into his sixth year, sent to spy on him, or possibly kill him, by Voldemort, who had imbued the small snake with the power to teleport over long distances in unwarded areas. However, before Silas had been able to strike, Harry had struck up a conversation with him and befriended him. His easy manner and the fact that he treated the snake as a friend rather than a possession or slave had quickly converted the little serpent to his side.

"I'll be all right," Harry said.

The snake looked doubtful, if that was possible, but apparently decided, correctly, that Harry wouldn't respond further if pressed. "I have the information you asssked for," Silas said. At Harry's nod, he continued, "The undead one Angelussss indeed hassss a sssoul. He drinkssss cold cow'ssss blood and harmssss no inocccentssss."

"I'm glad," Harry replied.

"The other undead one, Sssspike, isss sssoulessss and cruel. He ordersssss the killing of inocccentssss but hasssss not drunk from them himssssself. He planssss to confront the Ssssslayer again thissss evening since the white-beard ssscared him away lassst night. He isssss not trussstworthy."

Harry smiled gently. "Thank you, Sssilasss. Were you able to catch enough food, or would you like me to find you some?"

Silas seemed to consider Harry's fragile state before firmly saying, "There were many ratssss where the blonde one lived. I will not need to eat for some daysssss."

"If you're sssssure," Harry said. "Do you mind returning to my wrisssst for a while? I want to try to sssstand up."

"Be careful," the snake warned before complying with Harry's instructions.

Harry smiled wryly- even the snake was worried about him!- before carefully sitting up, relieved to feel no pain other than an ache in his shoulder and nose. He turned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that he was sitting with his legs dangling off the bed. "So far, so good," he muttered. It was a fairly simple matter to push himself in a standing position, and he was reassured to find that he was able to stand without difficulty. He stretched his legs and arms a bit to make sure that none of his muscles had stiffened, and was in his typical relaxed but ready position within minutes.

"Now what?" Silas asked. "Perhapssss you ssshould get back in bed and wait for white-beard to come and tell you that you can get up."

"I'm already up, _mother_," Harry said, petting the snake's head affectionately. "It would be a ssshame to lie back down when I'm already ssstanding."

"Jusssst don't crusssh me when you collapssse," Silas advised.

Harry laughed once, took a step, wobbled, and glared at the snake, who was doing a snake-equivalent of a chuckle.

* * *

When Albus Dumbledore entered the library, which was doing its best impression of being overcrowded, proudly boasting an occupancy of six-Giles, Snape, Willow, Xander, Oz, and Buffy-it was as if a small sun had entered and lit the room. 

A small, infuriating sun.

One which at least two men wished they could douse.

But a sun, nevertheless.

"Hello, everyone," the old man crowed cheerfully, the twinkle in his eye at full-force. "Principal Snyder and I have come to an understanding about the inherent goodness of young people!"

Giles blinked in shock.

Snape sneered.

Buffy gave a little cheer, patting herself on the back, as Xander, Willow, and Oz looked on in varying states of bemused curiosity.

"It took you three hours to cow Snyder into submission?" Snape demanded. "What the bloody hell were you doing in there?"

Dumbledore smiled winningly. "I simply used my natural charm, dear boy. Perhaps you ought to try doing so sometime, mmmm?" he said. "It was quite easy to convince Principal Snyder of the error of his ways."

Snape gave a noncommittal grunt.

"As for my activities after our little chat, why, I merely explored Sunnydale for a while, trying to get my bearings. Did you know that they have a delightful bowling alley just a half hour's walk from here? I do adore ten-pin bowling." Ignoring Snape's sputtering (since Snape had read between the lines of his comments and realized that Dumbledore had been out bowling while the rest of them were trying to save the world), Dumbledore's eyes roved over the assembled teenagers. When they landed on Willow, he grinned once again and said, "Ms. Rosenberg, I apologize once again for startling you earlier. I did not mean to intimidate you."

Snape snorted at the idea of Dumbledore, in _that_ outfit, intimidating anyone.

Her eyes wide at being singled out once again by the second most powerful wizard in the world, Willow tremulously attempted to smile. "That's all right," she said graciously. "You just startled me, that's all."

"Excellent!" he effused. "I would like to sit down with you some day and hear all about the exploits of the BCSRWG."

She raised an eyebrow uncertainly. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "The acronym is so well-known in many wizarding circles nowadays that I forgot. I do believe it stands for 'bloody crazy soul-restoring witch girl.'"

Buffy laughed. "That's our Will!" she exclaimed, slapping her best friend on the back as Willow blushed furiously.

"Now, down to business," Dumbledore announced, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"When exactly will you be leaving, Albus?" Snape asked before Dumbledore could get started.

"Very soon, my dear boy, very soon," Dumbledore replied. "I feel that my presence will very shortly no longer be needed here, and I fear to think what Gilderoy Lockhart may have done to my castle in the interim."

"Then, _why_," Snape growled through gritted teeth, "Did you hire him in the first place?"

Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "Because Minerva told me not to." Snape opened his mouth, to make another justified, biting comment, no doubt, but was forestalled by Dumbledore, who asked, "Are you going to argue with me all day about decisions that have already been made, or are you going to ask for my help against Odiminis before I must return to Hogwarts?"

Hurrying to speak before Snape, who was clearly about to open his mouth and return to the subject of Gilderoy Lockhart, Giles interjected, "Any advice you have that would help us against Odiminis would be quite welcome."

Dumbledore nodded. "I know absolutely nothing about this demon," he announced happily. A pin dropping could have been heard in the silence that followed.

"Nothing?" Giles asked incredulously. It was hard for him to believe that _Albus__ Dumbledore_, the oldest man in the world and for a long time the most powerful wizard, as well as one of the most intelligent men he had ever known, a man with a reputation for being omniscient, had no help to offer.

"Nothing," Dumbledore confirmed. "I do, however, know someone who probably does."

"And who would that be?" Xander asked impertinently, irritated by the old guy and the fact that he had no idea what was going on.

Abruptly, Dumbledore's eyes turned as cold and hard as flint, and his face took on a distant look, and it was clear that he was remembering something terrible. "The vampire Spike."

* * *

"Harry? What are you doing out of bed, dear?" a surprised female voice demanded. Harry blinked, looking up from his feet, which he had been staring at determinedly in an attempt to get them to obey his commands. Joyce Summers was standing in front of him, hands on her hips, and, judging by the expression on her face, channeling Mrs. Weasley. Her faux-angry glare turned to shock when she saw his face, and he was suddenly reminded that Dumbledore had cancelled his glamour spell and that it had not been replaced yet. "Harry, dear, you look _awful_," she said worriedly. 

As he always did in the face of maternal concern, Harry began to stutter. "Er...I just wanted to get up and about, you know, stretch my legs..." she was frowning disapprovingly "...and then get back into bed," he concluded meekly. He carefully sat back down on the bed, swiveled so that he was lying down, and pulled the covers up over his chin.

"Told you ssssso," Silas said smugly. Harry ignored him.

"Now, Mr. Dumbledore told me that you weren't feeling well, Harry," Joyce said briskly, in that efficient, motherly way he had only ever seen before from Mrs. Weasley. "So I made you some chicken soup." She placed a small tray with a sizable bowl of soup on his lap.

"You didn't have to do that," he mumbled under his breath, embarrassed that she had seen him in this state, and still unused to being taken care of when he was unwell, despite his many visits to the Hogwarts infirmary.

She smiled. "I wanted to. After all," she said jokingly, "How are you going to look after Buffy for me if you're cooped up in bed because you don't get enough nutrients?"

He smiled tentatively in reply, before ducking his head and lifting a spoonful of hot soup to his mouth. He blew gently on it before taking a sip.

He marveled as it slid down his throat that it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

* * *

"Spike," Buffy said flatly. 

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "From what I've heard, _Spike_" he spat thename as if it were something foul "has been traveling the world with his consort, Drusilla, for some time now. He has undoubtedly visited every demon bar he could find, and he is bound to have picked up some valuable tidbits about this apocalypse. In addition, he sought you out yesterday, which seems to signify that he wishes for a truce or something similar."

"Why would he want that?" Willow asked.

"It's not so unusual," Dumbledore replied. "If I have been briefed correctly, Spike has approached Ms. Summers once already, in facing the vampire Angelus when he attempted an apocalypse. I wouldn't be surprised if his reasons for coming this time around are the same: while vampires enjoy slaughter and drinking blood, a world conquered by an inherently magical demon intent on causing as much destruction as it can is not necessarily something they find appealing. From what I know of Spike, and myexperiences with him, he quite likes the world the way it is, and is willing to fight to preserve the status quo."

"Your experiences?" Buffy asked.

Dumbledore grimaced. "A story for another time, perhaps. For now, suffice it to say that we have fought on opposite sides of a war before."

"So, what?" Xander asked. "Do we just go find him and ask him to help us off a demon?"

"He's found Buffy once before, Xander," Giles said. "I'm sure he'll do so again."

"Anyway," Buffy said, "I'll go talk to Angel when we're done here; maybe he's heard something."

* * *

Angel stood with his eyes closed, his hands pressed loosely in front of him as if in prayer. He breathed in deeply, then breathed out, feeling every muscle in his body relax before beginning his nightly ritual of yoga and tai chi. 

He was halfway through one form, standing easily balanced on his left foot, when he felt/sensed/heard the air behind him part, and he threw himself forward into a roll to avoid the punch. When he leapt to his feet, he was already in vamp-face, as Buffy liked to call it.

"Spike," he growled angrily when he saw his attacker. He was surprised to see that, unlike him, Spike was not in vamp-face, and was casually standing there as if he hadn't just assaulted him unprovoked.

"Angel," Spike mocked. "How spiffing to see you, old chap."

"What are you doing here?" Angel demanded. "You know that you're not welcome in Sunnydale." He advanced on the younger vampire menacingly, ready to defend himself or attack at the slightest sign of provocation. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Angel, Angel, Angel," Spike said, shaking his head in mocking disbelief. "Still having some trouble controlling your temper, I see. As for your question: you shouldn't kill me nowor ever, preferablybecause I have information that could save your precious Slayer and her band of nitwits."

"Why should I trust you anywhere near her?" Angel growled again.

"Don't you trust me, Angel?" Spike asked in mock hurt.

"The last time Buffy trusted you, you left her to the wolves," Angel snarled.

"By wolves, you mean yourself, don't you?" Spike asked with a smirk. "Besides, it's not like she needed my help. Sent _you_ to hell with no problem, didn't she?"

Angel found himself growling once again, but stopped suddenly when he realized what this scene looked like. Spike was standing there, looking like a normal human being, holding a conversation. Angel, on the other hand, had on his monstrous vampire face, was menacing Spike, and was in general acting like an animal.

It took great force of will to shove that animal side away and to act like the human being he had once been.

"I'll ask again, Spike," he said. "Why are you here?"

Spike spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I've already told you. I want to help save the world, and all that. Help the Slayer fight against a demon that threatens innocents and small animals."

"And what's in it for you?" Angel asked skeptically. "The word 'altruism' isn't in your vocabulary, _old friend_."

Spike grinned a little in response. "Why, I get to _eat_ the innocents and small animals without bowing to a bigoted overdemon," he said savagely.

"That I can believe," Angel said.

Just then, the front door burst open, and both vampires whirled to see Buffy and the Scooby gang as they entered.

* * *

Harry was lying on his bed and feeling both bored and lonely. Joyce had left several hours ago, explaining that she had just come home from work to check on him (a statement that had caused him to blush with pleasure), and that she had had to return to the gallery. He knew that Dumbledore and the others were undoubtedly working on solving the demon problem, and he was frustrated that his continuing weakness from his emotional breakdown and physical wounds was hindering him from helping. 

One of Harry's main characteristics was an absolute hatred of being helpless.

This dratted feeling of helplessness was worsened by the fact that he felt like he was being watched.

He raised his head slowly in the direction of the windowsill, and felt his eyes widen at the sight of the magnificent phoenix perched there and regarding him warmly.

She was almost exactly the same size as Fawkes, and of similar coloring, although she had more golden feathers than red, and Fawkes had more red than gold. When his eyes met hers, he felt a spark of connection, a completion of a mind-bond which he had only begun to feel previously in his darkest moments.

She sang a beautiful melody, and he nearly wept from the sensation of joy that swept him as she flew from the windowsill to land on his chest. He reached up a tentative hand to pet her, and let out a sigh of contentment when she leaned into his touch as though she longed for it.

A single name fell from his lips. "Allegra."

* * *

Review Responses:

_Opalish_: Thanks again for betaing for me, and for your wonderfully long review...it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. By the way, about the betaing, I was thrilled by your red comments; I seriously want this fic to be as good as I can get it, so any critique can only help. It's much appreciated, and I'll have more for you soon!

_Lunatic Pandora1_: I suppose that's true; however correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that at this point in BtVS Willow knows many spells that aren't long and complicated like the one she used to restore his soul.

_Luna the Moonmonster_: Well, the prophecy was written sometime in the Middle Ages. I'm sorry if the metric scene doesn't make sense; it was really just another opportunity for them to snipe at each other. I was sort of trying to draw from the real-life example of when British and American engineers were building a space ship together and the Brits used the metric system and the Americans used feet and inches.

_daisyrocker_: Spike is a vampire on BtVS; he was sired by Drusilla, the vampire that he's in love with, who was in turn sired by Angel. He's evil, but has a strong sense of self-preservation, so is willing to fight for the good guys to help keep his little world in tact. In the later seasons, he and Buffy get together, but I don't like to talk about that.

Also thanks to Night-Owl123, bandgsecurtiyaw, Dragonic, Werewolves are People Too, Theboss996, Lady FoxFire (lol...too true), HecateDeMort, Tutorwife23 (glad you're enjoying the banter! Sorry for the update delay!), vicky .H, A-man, limar, gaul1, Weasely, tdk99992000, r h 4 ever, travis, SiLvErFaTeD, and Windy River for your reviews!

* * *

Please Review!


	13. Explanations, Part 2

Note: Over 200 reviews! Woo-hoo!

This chapter is very short, but for a good reason; I realized while writing it that _Dumbledore's Tale_ needs to be a chapter of its own, rather than cramming it in here, where it doesn't really fit. That chapter should be up soon, however. It'll be entirely Dumbledore-centered, and should cover some interesting history.

**IMPORTANT: **I've gone back and changed a tiny bit of chapters 8 and 11 after writing the next chapter, but it's not necessary that you re-read them. Just know that Dumbledore absolutely hates Spike, much more vehemently than the original chapters showed.

My wonderful beta-reader opalish (three cheers, everyone!) raised a good point about my timelines when editing this chapter, so I just want to explain: this fic takes place in Harry's 7th year, which would be 1997-1998. I am _adjusting_ the Buffy timeline so that her senior year and 18th birthday correspond to this school year, as well. Thus, Harry is 17, Buffy is nearly 18, and Angel went evil and got sent to Hell sometime at the end of the previous school year. I figure that killing Angel was a huge character builder for Buffy, and one she really needed to have to be able to compete with Harry at all (even if she still really can't) for maturity.

Here is the official list of pairings for this fic. Any names not mentioned may have a pairing at a later date, but no promises:

Buffy/Angel  
Spike/Drusilla (although this will be entirely hearsay)  
Willow/Oz  
Neville/Ginny (possibly)  
Remus/Joyce (possibly)  
Snape/Giles (if you stare really, really hard and have slash on the brain-cough opalish cough-but nothing will actually be said about this, since it won't be a real pairing. :-) )  
Dumbledore/Snyder/Goofy hat threesome (just kidding!)

There will be **no**:

Harry/Buffy  
Harry/Willow  
Dumbledore/Joyce (thank you, mother)  
Snape/Joyce  
Harry/Cordelia  
Harry/Luna

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize (except the plot, which hopefully you do recognize, if you've gotten this far...).

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Explanations, Part 2 

_Previously:_

_Just then, the front door burst open, and both vampires whirled to see Buffy and the Scooby gang as they entered._

"Angel?"

"Buffy!"

"Spike!"

"Dumbledore!"

"Xander!" Everyone stared at Xander for a brief moment after he mockingly shouted his own name before ignoring him.

"What's going on here?" Giles demanded.

Spike smirked. "My old buddy and I were just catching up on the good old times. Of course, _I_ wanted to plot world domination, but Angel here was being a stick in the mud."

"I think you have more important things to talk about right now, Spike," Dumbledore said, his voice filled with steely menace and an undertone of hatred that seemed foreign in the usually-cheerful Headmaster. "Such as enlightening us about Odiminis."

"Odiminis?" Spike repeated airily. "I may have heard the name a time or two."

Buffy agitatedly twirled a stake between her fingers. "Can I stake him, please, Giles?" she asked lightly, although her eyes were narrowed in anger at the vampire she still held largely responsible for Kendra's death...the vampire who had broken their pact and betrayed her only a short time ago.

"Buffy," Giles said placatingly.

"I suggest that you tell us what you know before Ms. Summers gets overanxious and does something _none_ of us will regret," Dumbledore said to the vampire. The angry look on the Headmaster's face suggested that he would not mind killing Spike himself.

"If you think that I'm going to stand here surrounded by stakes and the Twit Brigade and tell you everything I know so you can kill me when I'm done, you've got another thing coming," Spike said. He shifted lightly on the balls of his feet, his movements reinforcing his words: he was clearly very uncomfortable with the current setting, and was just waiting for the blows to start flying.

Dumbledore was spared having to answer when a heavy weight suddenly landed on his head, sending him crashing to the ground and instantly knocking him unconscious.

* * *

_Twenty Minutes Previously:_

_She was almost exactly the same size as Fawkes, and of similar coloring, although she had more golden feathers than red, and Fawkes had more red than gold. When his eyes met hers, he felt a spark of connection, a completion of a mind-bond which he had only begun to feel previously in his darkest moments._

_She sang a beautiful melody, and he nearly wept from the sensation of joy that swept him as she flew from the windowsill to land on his chest. He reached up a tentative hand to pet her, and let out a sigh of contentment when she leaned into his touch as though she longed for it. _

_A single name fell from his lips. "Allegra."_

The phoenix trilled again, a sound that bespoke warmth and love and comfort, all those things which Harry found so foreign and yet so yearned for. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

He was amazed by the sensations coursing through his spirit. It was as though a warm, feathery, red and gold blanket had been wrapped around his soul, soothing his myriad hurts, beginning to heal his many still-gaping wounds. He sensed a light touch on his mind and realized instinctively that the phoenix was attempting to ascertain his mental state, but was hindered by his occlumency shields. Harry smiled softly as he let them down, deliberately allowing someone into his mind for the first time.

He felt wonderful, and hoped that the feeling, and the phoenix, would never leave.

No, not "the phoenix." Allegra was her name, although how he knew that, he didn't know. He felt giddy enough to giggle. _It's magic, of course_.

Allegra gave a little sigh of contentment when she stroked his mind with hers, and he wondered in awe whether she could possibly be enjoying this newfound bond as much as he was. A moment later, he was overwhelmed by a sudden influx of loving emotions, sensations, and memories, a swirling of sound and color and feeling that was too much for him to handle, and he clamped his hands to either side of his head as if the pressure would empty his head.

As quickly as it had begun, the surge ceased, leaving him dizzy and disoriented but not ill. He lowered his hands and blinked cautiously, looking at Allegra, whose eyes were wide in an almost-human expression of alarm. She nuzzled him gently, apologetically, and he got the sense that she was as confused by what had just happened as he was. She cocked her head to one side in thought for a long moment before apparently coming to a decision about something. She latched her talons firmly onto his bed clothes.

"Harry?" Silas asked sleepily. "What'ss-"

Harry gasped as they disappeared in a flash of flames, only to reappear somewhere else. Suspended in mid air. Directly over the head of one Albus Dumbledore. He stared in shock directly into his phoenix's terrified, abashed eyes as they fell the short distance.

"_Oooof_!"

"Ouch!"

"Albus? Are you quite all right?"

"-going on?"

Harry rolled carefully off of his Headmaster with a groan, worried about what kind of serious injuries he might have caused the very old man. He blinked owlishly at the shocked group gathered around them.

"Er...hello?"

* * *

Dumbledore opened his eyes slowly, wincing slightly at the ache in his old bones but feeling no serious injuries on his body, although he suspected from the throbbing in his head that it now bore a rather large lump. He looked around slowly, taking in his surrounds and realizing that he was reclining on a bed-it must have been transfigured-in Giles' office in the library, which had been expanded to allow for the new furniture. Fawkes was perched on the back of a chair next to a phoenix he had never seen before; his face lit up at _that_ long-expected sight. 

Finally, sitting collapsed in the chair and snoozing was Harry Potter, who should have still been in bed himself.

"Harry?" he said, feeling loath to wake up the slumbering boy, but needing to know what was going on.

Harry shifted a little, murmured in his sleep, shifted again, and promptly fell out of the chair. "Wha-?" he mumbled, trying to get his bearings, before he saw Dumbledore and grinned. "Professor! You're awake!" He reined in his enthusiasm abruptly when he remembered exactly why Dumbledore had been knocked unconscious in the first place. "I'm so sorry for landing on you like that, sir," he said sincerely.

Dumbledore smiled wryly as he carefully felt the bump on his head. He flinched when his hand came in contact with the tender flesh. "It was youwho fell on me, my boy?" he asked, not understanding what had happened.

"Er, yes. I'm not exactly sure why, sir, but Allegra, she's the new phoenix-" he petted her unconsciously "-well, she dumped me on you."

"I see," Dumbledore mused. Although his expression was pensive, inside he felt like dancing with joy. "In that case, I do believe I can forgive you, Harry," he said.

"But, um, sir, do you know why she did that?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps if you tell me the events that led up to me being squashed, I might understand," Dumbledore advised.

Harry explained what had happened as clearly as he could, with Dumbledore nodding encouragingly every once in a while.

"Sir, what's going on?" Harry asked once he had finished and had given the Headmaster several minutes to ponder.

"First, tell me, where is everyone else?" he stalled.

"Buffy's out patrolling with Willow, Oz, and Xander, while Angel, Snape-er, Professor Snape-and Mr. Giles are watching over Spike in the library."

"Then we shall remain undisturbed for a while. Good," he announced. "You see, Harry, the explanation I owe you and which you have requested is much longer than you might expect, and involves several elements of my life that I've never told anyone else." Harry inhaled a deep breath in response both to the gravity in the older wizard's voice, and the idea that he was being entrusted with such personal details about his mentor. Dumbledore's voice actually broke a bit when he said, "I must ask that you not interrupt me, if only because I fear that I would be unable to start again."

"Sir," Harry said hesitantly, "Are you sure that you're well enough for this?"

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "I've taken many a hit to my head over the years, Harry. I shan't let this one slow me down."

"If you're sure," he replied reluctantly.

"Of course I am! Now, I suppose I should start with the part of the story which you already know: I was already around one hundred years old when Tom Marvolo Riddle attended Hogwarts-he was a contemporary of Professor McGonagall, incidentally-but despite my age and considerable magical skill, I had not yet faced a truly skilled or dangerous adversary. It was in the latter years of Riddle's attendance at Hogwarts that the Dark Lord Grindelwald became a threat..."

_To be continued_

* * *

Review Responses: 

_opalish_: I? On your favorite story list? I think that I shall swoon! (places hand on forehead dramatically) Spike's 'morally challenged.' Right. I mean, it's not his fault when he gets a craving for a little _snack_ and can't help but indulge, is it? It's just when that craving is Buffy and they start doing the nasty all over the place that I say "ewwww." Sorry. I hated seasons 6 and 7 for that reason. LOL...good guess on the phoenix!

_Kaaera_: I'm glad you're wondering about how Dumbledore and Spike know each other...just wait till the next chapter, and all will be revealed!

Also thanks to gaul1, Werewolves are People Too, A-man (I have nothing against redundancyespecially when your redundantly flattering! Thanks for reviewing!), Tutorwife23 (thanks as always for your wonderfully inspiring reviews), Lunatic Pandora1 (never fear, Harry will do plenty of butt kicking), vicky .H, Windy River, SiLvErFaTeD (wow...I don't think I've ever gotten that compliment before:-) ), HecateDeMort, Night-Owl123, and r h 4 ever (I'm sorry to say that I'm glad you were getting impatient...I've been having to force myself not to rush things. Hope you like the phoenix stuff!) for your reviews!

* * *

Please Review!


	14. Dumbledore's Tale

Note: Well, here's the long-awaited (by me, at least) story of Dumbledore's past. I apologize both for the wait for this chapter and for my warning that I probably won't update for a week or so after this, since finals week is upon me. This chapter is unbetaed for the moment, since I wanted to get it up now.

I know that almost everyone is disappointed by the fact that I don't plan on there being any Harry pairings in this fic. Keep in mind that he is 17 years old, still recovering from trauma the likes of which no teenager (or adult, even) should ever have to endure, and that the only girl who could even begin to compare to him in life-experience (i.e., Buffy), is taken by Angel, who is her soul mate and who in my opinion should never have left Sunnydale. I'm not saying that this makes it so that he can't have romance, but I would feel terrible pairing Harry with someone shallow, like Cordelia, or with someone who's already with the person she's supposed to be with (Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz). As for Ginny or Luna, first, they're at Hogwarts, and won't be making any appearances for many chapters. Second, I'm not sure if it was entirely clear in the Interlude, but Luna was made into a werewolf in the final battle, and my Harry will probably never be emotionally stable enough to be with someone who he feels guilty about every time he looks at her. Finally, while I have nothing against reading Harry/Ginny, I won't even consider writing it for various reasons that might offend Ginny fans.

Again, just out of curiosity, what would be the benefits of starting a Yahoo! group? If I did, would anyone join? For example, this chapter would have been uploaded (unbetaed) there two or three days ago.

Also, for those who were disgusted by the thought, the Giles/Snape pairing was a joke. I was just saying people who like the idea of that pairing can imagine a romantic pairing between them beneath all that bickering and disdain.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon for many helpful details and dates.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Dumbledore's Tale 

_Previously_:

_"...Now, I suppose I should start with the part of the story which you already know: I was already around one hundred years old when Tom Marvolo Riddle attended Hogwarts-he was a contemporary of Professor McGonagall, incidentally-but despite my age and considerable magical skill, I had not yet faced a truly skilled or dangerous adversary. It was in the latter years of Riddle's attendance at Hogwarts that the Dark Lord Grindelwald became a threat..."_

_Excerpt from _The Rise and Fall of Grindelwald:

_The Dark Lord Grindelwald, whose whereabouts previous to his rise in the late 1930s are still unknown, is said to have been a confidant of the German Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, although Hitler, as a muggle, was unaware of Grindelwald's status as a wizard. Grindelwald based his own plan of attack on Hitler's battle strategies, divining where and when to strike to cause the most damage. When the Germans blockaded Britain in an attempt to starve her out in June, 1940, Grindelwald attacked from within, striking farms and storage facilities, using unquenchable _incendio_ spells to burn them to the ground. However, this attempt was foiled by the combined efforts of the great Albus Dumbledore, whose skill at setting anti-apparition wards eliminated the chance for surprise attacks, and the entire English force of aurors, who worked around-the-clock shifts, prepared to portkey to any location in England to heroically serve their country against those who would harm her._

_Ironically, of all the economies influenced by the parallel wars waged at this time, wizarding England's was the least affected. Other than the initial loss of produce and agricultural facilities, wizarding England suffered little loss of food products. In addition, the entire muggle world would end up spending approximately 1 trillion by the end of the war, primarily on weapons and supplies; wizarding England, however, whose sole weapons were wands, to whom the use of muggle weaponry was considered too undignified by Grindelwald and too cruel by those who opposed him, would expend no galleons at all on weaponry, and little on other supplies._

_Grindelwald of course had an extensive education in the uses of the Dark Arts. It has been proven that he used numerous Dark rituals involving the sacrifice of children and unicorns, the two most heinous crimes known to wizards, to increase his power. It is rumored that a side-effect of these rituals was a strangely erratic power of foresight, which allowed him to witness his primary defeats ahead of time, but without providing the details he needed to avoid them. The self-fulfilling nature of his prophecies has never been fully explored, but scholars have postulated that Grindelwald foresaw that he would be dead before the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasakiboth events which his ability warned him of long in advanceand grew so fearful about his death that when it approached he lost all faith in himself and resigned himself to his fate._

_In the years since Grindelwald's death, some critics have questioned his true status as a Dark Lord. Although he used Dark Magic without a doubt, his control over Dark creatures was dubious. For example, while the vampires did indeed flock to him, any loyalty they showed him was due not to any magical compulsion, but to the many innocents he offered to them for the slaughter. Similarly, the significant number of acromantulas, nundus, dementors, and leithfolds who joined him did so out of greed. It has been said that, in the event of an unsuccessful raid, these Dark creatures would often turn on and consume Grindelwald's own men in their anger at being denied their promised prey. Even worse for Grindelwald, his control over the werewolves was almost non-existent, and, in fact, many of the werewolves whom he attempted to compel ended up fighting for and dying for the Light side. The reason for the insecurity of his hold over these creatures has been speculated upon by many since Grindelwald's defeat. Perhaps he was not powerful enough, despite his attempts to become so. Perhaps he was innately not Dark enough, though such a suggestion seems unlikely when one considers the many atrocities he committed. We may never know the cause._

_Of course, the leader of the Light side in the war against Gridelwald was the great Albus Dumbledore, who was already known at this time as an impressive alchemist, who had discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood, who was unarguably the most powerful wizard in the world, and who had become a transfiguration professor much beloved by all his students..._

_-Herbert Hanson_

_

* * *

_

**Hogwarts, October 1944**

Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a man with a youthful stride but long hair whitened by age, clung tightly to his great-grandniece, murmuring soothingly to her and stroking her hair as she sobbed desperately into his plain black robe, gripping his sleeves tightly with her small hands, clinging to him as if he were her last lifeline. In truth, he was not far from it. His half-moon glasses were tilted dangerously on his nose, but he paid them no heed. His black teacher's robes were soaked through with tears and blood, already stained with sorrow and despair that could never be washed out.

Since the child's parents had been killed in their home on a raid by Grindelwald's lackeys just hours ago, her only remaining family were her great-grandfather Aberforth, and her great-granduncle Albus. The Dumbledore family had always had very few children each generation, and this war, which had been dragging on with relentless, efficient cruelty for five years now, had eliminated all but this sad remnant of a once-proud house. Albus was pained by the knowledge that all that was left of the Dumbledores were two batty old men and a young girl with no parental figures left. _How many more..._

Of course, the House of Dumbledore was hardly the most harmed by this terrible war. The entire Doren, Anisted, Lentel, Rederford, Harkenbloom, and Edigood families had been wiped out by Grindelwald, just to name a few. In addition, the Fennels, Yangs, Fitzens, Herstels, Coxes, Whartons, Deakins, and Morrisons had been slaughtered _en masse_ in the German air raids which had just ceased this month.

Dumbledore had taught, known, and come to care for nearly every member of nearly all of these families.

His compassion was magnified by the fact that he had never had a wife or children of his own. When he had been young and foolish, so convinced of his own invincibility and magical prowess, he had taken the righteous path and become an auror. He had nobly declared that he did not have time to form a family, to settle down, as long as there was evil in the world. In the years after that, when in battle after battle he had had it literally beaten into him that he was a fool, he had devoted himself to the less directly influential study of alchemy. He had become so wrapped up in his work that he had never allowed himself the chance to fall in love, let alone to meet his soul mate, if she even existed. Then he had been convinced to become the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, and, when he was suddenly surrounded by children and like-minded adults, he felt that he had adopted a family, and he came to love them all as one. If he was lonely, at least he was productive.

"Come on, love," he murmured to the small child in his arms, a young girl he had come to love above all others, if only because she had a beautiful smile and because nearly everyone else he had come to care about had already died in this endless war. "Let's take you to my rooms, all right?" It could not be healthy for a young girl to be in the same room as the mutilated corpses of her parents, even if she had already been scarred by being forced to witness their brutal murders. Besides, Aberforth, as a slightly closer relative to Annabelle than he, would take care of the details while Albus, the more soothing of the two, would comfort the bereft child.

He swept the auburn-haired eight-year-old girl up into his arms, carrying her easily as he strode from the infirmary and down the halls in the direction of his private rooms.

He passed several Gryffindors in the halls as they went about their business. Once, he would have suspected that they were up to some last-minute pranks before curfew. Now, though, their furtive movements and pale faces, the way that their voices were silent, not for stealth, but in respect, assured him that there was no amusement in them today.

How many of them would graduate from Hogwarts only to join the aurors? How many of them would give up their lives in this war which had consumed their world? _How many more..._

"Professor Dumbledore?" Albus turned to see this year's Head Boy watching them with a calculating expression in his green eyes and a careful blankness settled across his handsome features. "Do you need any help, sir?"

Although the boy's tone was carefully courteous, Albus couldn't help but feel that the respectful "sir" had been spat with carefully concealed distaste. He had never trusted Tom Riddle, the brilliant boy who had every other teacher wrapped around his fingers, if only because he had always believed that Rubeus Hagrid could not harm a flyor a dragon, as the case may belet alone poor Ethel Myrtle, a young girl who had never done him any harm. The unfortunate half-giant, a kind, good soul, had been hopelessly bewildered by the charges pressed against him, and little defense had been made on his behalf by anyone except Albus, who had declared loudly and at length that Hagrid simply could not have committed the crime for which he had been accused. Although his defense had not been enough to save Hagrid from expulsion, Albus had been able to use his not-inconsiderable influence to keep Hagrid on at Hogwarts as gamekeeper. He could not help but hold out hope that someday Hagrid might be able to put his extensive knowledge of dangerous beasts to good use, perhaps even as a teacher.

The fact that it had been primarily Tom Riddle's testimony which had implicated and condemned Hagrid for the Chamber of Secrets incident had ignited Albus' already-smoldering suspicion of the young man, a suspicion which had not been doused over the two years since then, and which was in fact further enflamed every time a Dark Arts book disappeared from the Restricted Section of the library only to be returned the next day. He would not be surprised if Tom's first action upon his graduation from Hogwarts was to join Grindelwald, perhaps even as his right-hand man. He expected that one day he would face Tom Riddle across a battle field in a fight to the death.

This near certainty did not endear the charismatic young man to him at this moment, when he was mourning the loss of two members of his own family to a Dark Lord.

"Thank you, but no, Tom," he said curtly. Whatever anyone else said, he would never trust the Slytherin. He swept past the young man and continued towards his rooms.

Tom watched him go, a typically calculating look in his piercing green eyes, his smooth, young face creased ever-so-slightly in thoughtfulness.

Albuswas not surprised when he opened the doors to his rooms to find that his dear friend and mentor, Nicholas Flamel, and his wife, Perenelle, were both waiting for him.

"Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry," Nicholas said. He was a vibrant-looking old man, with short white hair and brown eyes not distorted by glasses. He was slightly shorter than his much younger friendeven shorter when he did not wear his platform wizard's boots. His face was worn, and he had no beard. He waited until Perenelle gently lifted the now-slumbering child from Albus' arms before embracing the younger man tightly. Perenelle was as old as her husband, but looked much younger. Her hair was gray, with stubborn strands of gold intermingled. Her complexion was fair, and once upon a time she had caused many a man to swoon at her feet. Devon, Nicholas' handsome blue and silver phoenix, flew to and landed on Albus' shoulder, filling him with a comforting warmth. Devon was the only phoenix Albus had ever seen, perhaps even the only one alive at the time, and it had always been a mystery to Albus how Nicholas had had the fortune to bond to such an amazing creature. Nicholas always claimed such information was a tightly-kept secret, however.

The Flamels were very dear to Albus, his family despite their lack of blood bonds. Almost fifty years ago a relatively young and inexperienced Albus had worked up the nerve to contact Nicholas, the foremost alchemist both then and now, to request help in an alchemy project that was causing him trouble. A firm friendship formed between the two men almost instantly despite their age. Albus became close to Perenelle, as well, when he began to regularly visit their secluded castle on weekends and to enjoy their hospitality and company. In recent years, it was those peaceful weekends which kept him sane, despite the fact that by necessity now they had become few and far between. Without his friends' quiet comfort and loving companionship, he doubted that he could have lived through the many battles in which he was honor-bound to participate, as the best dueler and most powerful wizard of the age, and the deaths of many of the many adults and children he had come to care about in his many years at Hogwarts.

The war had been devastating in both the muggle and wizarding worlds, with Adolf Hitler leading the Germans and Grindelwald wreaking havoc all over wizarding Britain. For the wizarding world, Grindelwald was without a doubt the more potent threat; it was impossible to know who was a secret Grindelwald follower, serving him as a spy in powerful positions, just waiting to strike treasonously. The atrocities of World War II, as it was being called, destroyed the lives of wizards as easily as muggles and added to the already-heavy burden faced by the aurors and other military wizards of Britain.

The loss of his great-nephew and his wife, both of whom Albus had known as mere toddlers and had taught at Hogwarts, was just another blow. _How many more..._ He didn't know how many more he could take. He didn't know what would happen to the wizarding world if he were to snap. Most times recently, he hadn't known much at all.

He raised red-rimmed eyes to observe Perenelle, who had deposited Annabelle on his bed before coming back out to join the wizards. "It's just going to keep happening and keep happening," he said hoarsely, letting down his guard, dropping the persona of "the great Albus Dumbledore" and leaving the man in his place, as he could only do in their presence. "Soon there will be no one left."

Perenelle pulled him into another hug, rubbing his back soothingly as he had done for Annabelle just minutes before. "It'll end, Albus," she whispered. "These sorts of things always do. When it happens, many will have been lost, but many will remain. I promise. You are strong. You can build things anew."

"I don't feel strong. Annabelle and Aberforth and you two are all that I have left, Perenelle," he said. "So few...and all in such danger." _How many more..._

"Perenelle and I are safe enough in our castle, Albus. You know that we won't get directly involved in any battles," Nicholas reminded him. The Flamels had resolutely refused to participate in any wars since Nicholas had faced and defeated a Dark wizard of his own in 1400. The battle had left him mentally scarred, and the thought of committing violence was abhorrent to him. It was shortly after the battle that Devon had bonded to him. "Aberforth knows how to take care of himself. He's too stubborn to die so soon anyway, you know that."

Albus cracked a brief smile which faded almost instantly. "And Annabelle? She is so young..."

Perenelle and Nicholas glanced at each other before Perenelle said, "Nicholas and I were talking about this, Albus, and we're willing to take her in for as long as the war lasts, if you wish it. We will protect her as if she were our own."

Albus closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Thank you," he whispered. Then, more strongly, "Thank you. I owe you two so much..."

"Then repay us by surviving this war, old friend," Nicholas said. "You neglected to mention that you are in more danger than any of us. Never forget that there are those who would be devastated by your death, my dear boy."

_How?_ Albus wanted to know. How could he survive when so many others had fallen? What right had he to live when children a quarter his age were being slaughtered on the battle fields? _How many more..._

As if sensing his emotional turmoil, Devon flew to his shoulder and rubbed his feathery face against the top of Albus' head. The contact was enough to warm his entire body, and beyond his body, comforting his wounded soul just a bit. Just enough to carry on.

"I do remember that," Albus said, gently petting the phoenix. "I will do my best to win us this war, and to live to see the world built anew."

* * *

**The Ministry of Magic Auditorium, June 1945**

"...and last, but certainly not least, I am pleased and honored to present the class of 1945's valedictorian and Head Boy, Tom Riddle!"

The applause was deafening as Riddle approached the stage, accepting his diploma from the Minister of Magic. He then shook Albus' hand, his grip firm and controlling, his eyes as hard as flint. He shook Headmaster Dippet's hand before casting _sonorus_ on his throat and turning to face the gathered Hogwarts students and families. Standing in front of the mass of wizards, his head cocked high, handsome face filled with joy, emerald eyes gleaming in the light, he looked like nothing less than a powerful leader.

"My fellow students," he began, his voice ringing confidently through the amphitheater, "I can't begin to say how pleased I am that we have all made it here: to our graduation, our commencement as true wizards in a bright world full of possibilities." There was silence in response to this pronouncement as many of the assembled parents looked at each other in confusion. A bright world? What was the boy thinking? Though Hitler had indeed committed suicide just two months ago, a great event for the countries, both wizard and muggle, in the Alliance, nevertheless they were still in the midst of the terrible war against Grindelwald, and many innocents were still dying each day. Yet this _boy_ had the audacity to claim that they were living in a world full of possibilities? Throughout the crowd, many heads were shaken, and the word _Slytherin_ was on many lips.

"I see that many of you are skeptical about that claim. You doubt me when I say that we, as the new generation of wizards, can do _anything_. You look at the past six years and see only the tragedy, not the possibility for rebirth. Let me tell you a story: once, there was a wizard boy who was raised in a muggle orphanage, abandoned by his muggle father because his mother had been a witch. The orphanage was a terrible place, where the boy was berated for his intelligence, ostracized for his cunning, and beaten for any accidental uses of his magic. Then the boy came to Hogwarts. Here, among his own kind, his true kind, he found friends, which he never had dreamed of having. He gained teachers who strove to teach him to use his powers to the best of his abilities" he nodded once at Albus "and the boy thrived under their tuition. He was acknowledged for his skills and given the respect he deserved accordingly, something he could never have hoped for in the muggle world. Now, despite the fact that the wizarding world is embroiled in a war against tyranny, it is thriving. Its economy has never been better, its school curriculum never so advanced nor so successful, its attendance of schools beyond Hogwarts almost threefold from what it was at the beginning of this century."

Many in the crowd blinked at this surprising pronouncement.

"And what are the muggles doing while we flourish so? They attack themselves. Adolf Hitler's gruesome Holocaust has murdered nearly twelve million of the world's innocent population. Yet, crimes of this sort cannot only be attributed to our enemies. Our ally, yes, the very country which England relied upon to win the war, performed its own atrocities in the form of the internment of its Japanese-American population. The muggle world is so confident of its supremacy, so sure of its power, that it must turn upon itself to find a new race of people to destroy.

"The wizarding world is the truly supreme one, though! United, we represent a greater force than muggles could ever hope to amass. United, we represent a group of people uncaring of the color of each other's skin or the color of their eyes and hair. United, we are the future. For us to be strong as we must be, fellow wizards cannot be our enemy. The enemy is whoever would seek to harm us, whoever disrespects us because they do not understand our power, and whoever seeks to rule with tyranny and oppression.

"This is truly a glorious world. Here, those with power, with intelligence, with determination, with ambition can achieve those goals which would otherwise be impossible. We could bring higher education to every witch and wizard. We could make additional discoveries like the Philosopher's Stone, ushering in a new golden era. We could control the world. And we _can_ and we _will_ defeat Grindelwald and free the wizarding world from his oppression!" The audience gave a loud cheer at that optimistic assertion. He had to shout to be heard over the enthusiastic mob. "Ladies and gentlemen! I give you the class of 1945: we can do anything!"

The exclamation that followed shook the building.

* * *

At the post-graduation party, Albus made his rounds, socializing and shaking hands with both the now-alumni and the many important people who had attended. He made an effort to appear jovial and powerful, a façade that kept his many admirers happy. However, even his smile could not hide the weariness on his face. 

It was nearly two hours into the celebration when he and Riddle ran into each other at the punch bowl.

"Professor," Riddle said respectfully, easily looking his former teacher in the eye.

"Mr. Riddle," Albus inclined his head.

"What did you think of my speech?"

"It was...enlightening. I do believe you have a good start should you wish to go into politics."

"I think not." Riddle dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "The endless bureaucracy would drive me mad, I'm sure."

"Then what do you have in mind?" Albus asked cautiously.

Riddle smiled charmingly, flashing white teeth. "I think I'll travel a bit, learn about magic in other cultures, expand my horizons, you know."

"An admirable goal."

"I thought so."

They stood there in tense, uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Riddle said, "I have one last thing to say to you, Professor, and then I think we will not see each other again for many years."

"Yes?"

Tom's eyes seemed to pierce Albus', so that the sincerity and blatant truth of what he was about to say could not be denied. "I knew many brutal people in the muggle world, terrible people, people who would beat a child for pleasure or as punishment and not think it wrong. They are the reason that I hate muggles, that I believe that they should be exterminated like the plague that they are. That they could hate me so much for just being who I was, for the things I could do..." He shook his head angrily. "However, you should know that the worst child abuser that I have ever met is _you_."

He turned to face Albus, and upon seeing the older man's confused and offended expression, he hissed, all pretences at respect utterly gone, "Yes, you, you old fart. You sit in your office and pretend to be all high and mighty, to know it all, to be a benevolent old man out for everybody's best interests, to be a hero. You play the righteous savior. Yet, you left a childa _child_with monsters. Every year for _seven years_, you sat back and let them do whatever they wanted with him, knowing that he could not defend himself without being expelled from the one place that he had ever called home. You preach your ideals of fairness and justice, and yet you are the greatest criminal even by your own definition.

"I could have been a great asset to you. If you had taken me from that orphanage after my first year, if you had protected me as you would have protected one of your precious _Gryffindors_, as you protected the half-giant, I would have been loyal to you for life. I would have loved and respected you as most of the people in this room do, and I would have moved Heaven or Hell for your cause. I would have _died_ for you. Instead, you betrayed everything you stood for, and by doing so, you created a worse enemy than you could ever imagine."

Tom got a faraway look in his eyes, his voice becoming slightly distant, as he said, "I have no doubt that you will defeat Grindelwald, and people will hail you as a hero. He is weak and doesn't know how to control his sycophants. He hasn't done half the rituals he could have to increase his power. He has no long-term goal other than to raze everything in his path. And you were born with natural ability and an unshakable, if erroneous, self-confidence. So you will defeat him, and for a while everyone will be happy, or at least, they'll think that they are." He paused, and when he spoke again, his tone had strengthened, a malevolent smile crossing his handsome features. "And when you least expect it, and are least prepared for it, I will return, and I will be more powerful and more deadly than Grindelwald and all of his lackeys combined could ever hope to be. And you will _not_ defeat me, old man, because, at your very essence, _you_ are nothing more than a hypocrite, and _I_ am the most powerful and intelligent wizard in five centuries. I will crush your ideals and every person who sides with you, and, at the very end, after you have screamed your life away in the last, agonizing, moments of your existence, my namemy _true_ namewill be the last thing you ever hear."

He nodded perfunctorily at the stricken old wizard. "Professor." Then he whirled and strode away, out of sight and out of the Ministry building. It would be twenty-five years before he would enter Albus' life again.

Albus watched him go, feeling shaken and uncertain. He felt as though an impossibly heavy weight had settled on his shoulders. No! It was not his fault, what had happened to Tom Riddle! He was a rotten apple from the start, corrupted beyond salvation before Albus had ever heard his name! He _could not_ be responsible for _every_ child in the world!

He blinked furiously, and several errant tears fell from his eyes. Was it possible? Could he truly have been so blind all these years? Had he been so cruel? Had he betrayed himself so terribly? Had he, 'great Albus Dumbledore, committed such a crime upon a young boy? _How many more..._

What should he have done differently? What must he do differently in the future to prevent any student from feeling as Tom Riddle did?

Perhaps Riddle's words that night could have made Albus a changed man. Perhaps he might not have been doomed to repeat his mistakes with another black-haired, green-eyed, incredibly powerful boy thirty-five years later. For he was just glimpsing the wisdom that righteousness doesn't mean just protecting those you love, but caring for all entrusted to you.

However, at that moment, just as understanding was taking root, a bloodied Nicholas Flamel burst through the doors, pushing a somewhat familiar-looking blonde man in front of him at wand point, his eyes immediately finding Albus', and shouted, "Albus! The vampires have taken Annabelle!"

* * *

"What happened?" Albus demanded, his mind focused on the task at hand, not daring to consider the high likelihood that she was already dead. _How many more..._

Upon witnessing the pandemonium that Nicholas' very public pronouncement had caused, Albus had immediately led him to an abandoned office so that they could make a plan of action.

For the time being, both ignored the vampire who was in the room with them, who had been restrained by ropes dipped in holy water and dangling with crosses.

Nicholas swallowed, either from the emotional pain of having fought, or the physical pain caused by his many, though not life-threatening, wounds. His white hair was stained red. "They attacked us at the manor. I still don't know how they found us, I don't know how they got past the wards. I swear to you, Albus, I didn't freeze up, I didn't just let them take her, I tried so hard, I fought so hard, and so did Perenelle, but there were so many of them and while we were fighting a large number of them, their leader's mate grabbed Annabelle and took her away. We killed many of them, and captured this one, but the rest escaped, and I had to take Perenelle to a mediwizard..."

Albus swallowed. He turned to the vampire. "What is your name?"

He smiled, showing his fangs. He bowed a bit, mockingly, hindered by his bindings. "William the Bloody at your service, mate, but you can call me Spike."

Albus nodded once, a grim look on his tired face. "Your leader. Who was your leader?"

The handsome vampire smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know," he sassed.

With a wave of his hand, Albus conjured a stake, which he menacingly placed over the vampire's heart. "_Tell me_."

Spike gulped, eyes wide in fear. "All right, all right, hold your horses. It was Francois, that French idiot that Grindelwald convinced to lead his force of vampires."

"Is there a ransom demand?" Albus demanded.

"Yes," Spike said, eyeing the stake nervously. "If you go to meet them, alone, in the Lonely Clearing in the Forbidden Forest, and give yourself up, they'll let her go."

"When?"

"Tonight. Before the sun rises." Nicholas watched Albus as he closed his eyes in thought for a long moment before decisively nodding once.

"Very well," Albus said.

"Very well, what, Albus?" Nicholas queried.

"I must do as they say."

"Albus!"

"Good show, old chap!"

"Could you have expected me to act otherwise, Nicholas?" Albus demanded, suddenly angry with his old friend, more angry than he could ever remember having been at anyone. "I would _die_ for her, just as I would die for you! Obviously _you_ would not die for her, but _I _will do whatever it takes to get her back! Whatever it takes!" _How many more..._

Nicholas flinched from his words as if struck. "Albus, I am so sorry this happened, truly I am. We tried, I swear to you that we tried our hardest."

Albus glared at him coldly. "How hard you tried _unsuccessfully_ to fight them is of no interest to me now. I have a meeting to attend. But first..." He turned back to the vampire, his eyes burning with at terrible anger. "You will die for your part in this."

"Don't kill the messenger!" Spike said. "I didn't even fight your friend here. I was just supposed to tell you the ransom demand, and you're supposed to let me go before you go to the meeting."

Albus smiled coldly. "A pity for you, then, that the word of a vampire means nothing."

"Albus," Nicholas cautioned him. "If you're going to go, you shouldn't waste time here. _I'll_ take care of the vampire. You do what you must."

He nodded reluctantly in agreement. "Very well," he said shortly. He swept out of the room to the border of the anti-apparition wards. Holding his wand at the ready, he closed his eyes, envisioned the beautiful glade, the only glade in the Forbidden Forest, and apparated with nary a sound. He could not know that at almost the exact minute of his departure, Grindelwald's forces attacked the Ministry Building, killing almost a quarter of the people inside, razing parts of the building to the ground, and allowing the vampire captive to escape.

He knew none of that. Instead, his mind, consumed by terrible fear and anger, was focused on his own upcoming battle.

When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by vampires. They encircled him, loomed over him, their faces hideous and their fangs extended hungrily.

In a single moment, he summoned all his power to him, felt it suffuse his body, and shouted, "STOP!" The vampires shied away from the power of his tone, almost fearing that he would begin emitting sunlight himself, as he shone like a small sun. "WHERE IS ANNABELLE?"

Loud clapping filled the small glade. "Impressive party trick, _mon ami_," the vampire leader's mocking voice reached him. "What do you think, my friends? Should we show him his beloved niece?" The vampires snickered before parting before him like the Red Sea. Albus felt his breath catch in his throat as grief threatened and then was consumed by a terrible anger.

For there, standing not thirty yards away, was Francois, holding Annabelle's limp, pale body in his hands, and licking the dead girl's blood from his lips and grinning fiendishly.

Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of the century, exploded.

All of the magic which had been pent up inside his being shot from his body like thousands of arrows from bows, some with the eerie green light of _avada kedavra_, striking the vampires down where they stood, others with the blood red of _crucio_, leaving them writhing in agony on the forest floor, and still others, invisible, forcing them to fight against each other against their own will, killing each other brutally and without mercy. The clearing was filled with a blinding blaze of green and red light, the horrific sounds of agonized screaming, the scent of scorched flesh, and the bitter taste of ash as hundreds of vampires died within minutes.

And through it all, Albus stood in the center of the clearing, his eyes closed and his face a mask of grief, golden light emanating from his body.

Eventually, the light faded. Albus opened his eyes, sagged, found that he was kneeling amidst a sea of corpses. Gaunt, exhausted, he crawled past and through the bodies, seeking Annabelle's corpse.

She was there, lying on the ground, her small body covered by the heavy corpse of the vampire that had killed her, his face frozen in shock at the suddenness of his death. Mindlessly, he shoved the body off of her limp form.

He looked down upon her, slow to touch her at first and then oh so gently he gathered her small form into his arms, collapsing on the ground, rocking back and forth and petting her hair, sobbing, for the child, for all the children, for the world, for himself. _How many more..._

It was not until hours later that a troop of aurors, already exhausted from their defense of the Ministry, apparated into the clearing, staring in undisguised shock at the carnage. While an auror wrapped a blanket around him in a feeble attempt to protect him from going into shock, another gently took the girl's body from Albus' arms. Albus blacked out.

* * *

When Albus came to, he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing, and low voices were murmuring around him. He opened his eyes, finding himself face-to-face with his brother Aberforth. The horror of what had happened returned to him in a sudden torrent of agony, and he let out a cry of despair as Abe drew him into a hug, and they clung to each other tightly, lost in their grief. 

Albus attempted to draw strength into himself, to be the leader that he knew that everyone needed him to be, but it was gone. "We'll need...we'll need to bury her next to her parents," he said brokenly. "They-they would have wanted it."

"Albus," Abe said quietly, reluctant to bring more pain to his brother. He closed his eyes in sorrow. "There is no body to bury." Albus blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "Albus...she was turned. They turned Annabelle!"

Oh the pain. Fresh shards of agony coursed through Albus as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut at the thought of that atrocity being committed upon his young, innocent, niece. He felt himself beginning to burn with hatred, hatred toward all who had been involved in her death and all who might commit similar crimes in the future.

"Then...then we'll cremate her, yes? We can at least bury her ashes."

"They had to do it already, Albus," Abe told him unhappily. "You've been asleep for three days now. They had to...had to before she rose. We've waited to bury the ashes, though."

"When will we do it?"

"When do you want to do it?"

"As soon as possible."

Abe nodded at the unsurprising declaration. "It'll be tomorrow, then. Go back to sleep, Albus, for me, please. You're still recuperating from that blast of power you expended."

Albus nodded, although he was sure that there was no way he could sleep. His weariness was greater than he realized, though, and within minutes he was gently pulled into the restless arms of Morpheus.

* * *

**Hogwarts, July 30th, 1945**

Albus Dumbledore stood tall and confident, blue eyes gleaming, his long white hair flowing freely around him, as he faced the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Although Grindelwald sneered disdainfully at him, he was clearly intimidated by his adversary, as well he should have been.

In the month since his niece's slaughter, Albus had done many things he had never thought he would be capable of. He had tortured prisoners for information. He had performed arcane rituals on himself to wring every bit of magic from his essence and make it available for instant use. He had trained himself with single-minded devotion to surpass his old abilities in every way, demanding more of his body, magic, and spirit. He had taken his hatred and used it to fuel himself, melding his rage into weapons to smite his enemies. This had not gone unnoticed by Grindelwald and others...whispers of dark things...uncertainty for the future...

He was ready for this battle, and, as the great Tom Riddle had predicted not long ago, he _would_ win.

In fact, it was over almost before it had begun.

Several preliminary curses flew between them before the battle began in earnest, Unforgivables flying from both sides of the Quidditch Pitch, both wizards focused on his opponent.

And then, just like that, a _crucio_ struck Grindelwald in the chest, and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony, screaming with the pain, utterly at Albus' mercy.

Albus stalked quickly toward his fallen adversary, secure in the knowledge that his powerful hatred was fueling the spellsthe hate which had grown in him every evening that he thought about his niece's wretched deaththe hate which had given him the strength to persevere this past monththe hate which he knew was consuming him.

He stood over the still-screaming Dark wizard, resisting the urge to kick his body. He heard him scream and felt nothing at the thought that he was causing such pain. He pointed his wand at him, ready to utter the final curse that would tear Grindelwald's life away and repay him for the thousands of lives which he himself had so ruthlessly taken.

Then he looked into the terrified man's eyes and the words stayed upon his lips as he abruptly ended the curse.

At the culmination of battle, the climax of his long existence, he now felt only a gaping emptiness in his spirit.

For Albus Dumbledore was, at heart, despite his many failings, a good man, and good men do not revel in the pain of others.

"Give me one reason to spare your life," he whispered, crouching next to the fallen man.

"You are a fool," Grindelwald spat, coughing up blood as he did so and pushing himself up onto one elbow so that he could look his tormentor in the eye. "You must know that I ordered the kidnapping and murder of your niece." He coughed a bit more. "Shall I tell you how good I was told she tasted? The lovely sounds she made as her life was sucked away? Shall I tell you what I will do to you...and your brother...and the Flamels...and anyone else you care about? I will kill them, of course, but first I will tor"

"_Avada kedavra_."

But sometimes even a good man must kill in cold blood.

Albus stood slowly, feeling the age in his limbs, the weariness engulfing his spirit, and he wondered where his soul had gone, for he felt as though he had been given the Dementor's Kiss.

"Albus," Nicholas Flamel said from behind him, but Albus did not turn to face the man with whom he had not spoken since that fateful night. "It's over, Albus."

"It's never over," Albus said hoarsely. _How many more..._ He closed his eyes, concentrated, and did the impossible, apparating off of the grounds of Hogwarts and to an unknown location.

* * *

**A Cottage Somewhere on Earth, August 1st, 1945**

An empty bottle of firewhisky clanked to the ground, joining many others scattered all over the floor. The distinct popping sound of another bottle being opened was easy to hear in the still night.

* * *

**The Same Cottage, August 3rd, 1945**

A loud, unpleasant _squawk!_ filled the night, and Albus Dumbledore groaned as the sound aggravated his already-pounding head. In an additional insult to his pain, a powerful...wing?...cuffed him sharply on the back of the head, setting the room to spinning and undoubtedly causing a small lump where he had been struck.

He blinked blearily, his blue eyes unfocused and dazed, glasses askew, beard awry, clothing rent asunder, and general odor entirely unpleasant.

The surprisingly brightly-colored wing pulled back to whack him once again, but this time he had the presence of mind to duck.

When he glanced up to see whether the offending wing would make another attempt, he accidentally caught sight of the creature's eyes. Sad eyes. Mesmerizing eyes. He couldn't help but stare, almost in a trance, as a mental connection suddenly materialized between himself and thephoenix? He blinked in surprise, and in his moment of awed incomprehension, he was completely unprepared for the wing that came around and struck him again, this time knocking him completely off of his chair, landing him on his hands and knees amidst various liquor bottles and leftover bits of food.

Amazingly enough, the one way to block a phoenix bond is by drinking excessively. Albus didn't feel at all different after the bonding except that he now felt like someone was inside his head

"You shouldn't have bonded with me," Albus moaned drunkenly. "Don't you know that I'm a murderer? All my ideals...dirt...I killed a man in cold blood, you know...a helpless man..."

The phoenix squawked at him again in irritation.

"What do you want me to do, Fawkes?" he blithered on, not at all conscious of what he was saying. "Want me to tell you"

He was cut off when the phoenix flew to him with what must have been a whistle of relief, seizing him by his filthy cloak and instantly transporting them both in a flash of light...

...only to end up sprawled painfully on the Flamels' lovely dining table. In their lovely dinner. Directly in front of their gobsmacked faces.

* * *

**The Flamels' Mansion, August 4th, 1945**

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Albus demanded, cringing when the sound of his own voice worsened his hangover.

"Relax, my friend," Perenelle said soothingly. She had healed completely from the battle against the vampires, except for a thin scar which sliced across her left cheek.

"I don't want to relax! I want to know why your bloody phoenix came to interrupt my bloody vacation!"

"Albus, that isn't my phoenix, and you know it. He's bonded to you now; you must have named him to have completed the bond," Nicholas said sternly.

"Bond?" Albus furrowed his brow. He slowly took down the occlumency shields he had spent several years building, and his eyes widened as he felt another mind connected to his own. Frowning in concentration, he tentatively sent out a questioning feeling, and felt a painful flood of annoyance, love, and amusement pound him from the Other. He whimpered at the mental pain, and felt the phoenix cease the flow, felt the phoenix's worry. "I don'tI don't understand."

Nicholas sighed. "Do you remember, Albus, how for the longest time after we met you pestered me and pestered me to tell you about my own experiences in battle and how Devon came to be bonded to me?" Albus nodded cautiously. "I could never tell you back then, not when it wasn't necessary. Now, though...It's a tale you need and deserve to hear. Fawkes, too, since he can learn from it as well. It all started in the year 1398, when the Dark witch Cassandra sought to rise..."

* * *

**The Remains of Hiroshima, Japan, August 6th, 1945**

Albus Dumbledore stood, shoulders slightly hunched, but bearing still powerful, a strong bubble-charm surrounding his entire body to protect him from harmful elements, and looked around in horror. Even with all of his experiences in war, he had never seen such devastation as he did here. Even so, most of the destruction was not yet visibly, still hidden beneath the 40,000 foot tall mushroom cloud.

Without waiting for Albus' prompting, Fawkes immediately flew to the nearest of the survivors, a man covered in burns, his face nearly melted away, not a strang of hair left on his body, who would almost certainly not survive even with the benefit of phoenix tears, and frantically attempted to save the man's life.

Albus was doing the same, less effectively, using what meager healing skills he had acquired over the years to keep these people alive for just a little longer, just long enough for every healer and medi-witch in England to come, just a little longer...

His face was streaked with blood where he had wiped a hand across it.

His back ached from bending over so much, but the ache could not compare to the pain that this woman was feeling, this woman who would never see, never walk again.

His magic was already being exhausted, but he could not give up, not when so many people urgently needed help. _How many more..._

He was dimly aware as, gradually at first and then with increasing alacrity, hundreds of healers and wizards from around the world had joined him in a desperate effort to save as many lives as possible.

They worked for hours, for days, nonstop, immersed in the horror of what had happened, trying to lessen this crime as much as they could, but for every life that they saved another ten died.

Meanwhile, those wizards who had only heard about the destruction of Hiroshima listened in horror to the preliminary reports which indicated that tens of thousands had been killed in the blast, with the prediction that an equal number would die in mere days from something called "radiation." The wizarding world was beyond shocked, beyond appalled, unable even to conceive the idea of a weapon capable of causing such damage. There was no spell that could directly kill more than one person.

This single muggle weapon razed a city.

Within just a day another horror had revealed itself connected to the bombing. Fully half of the wizards who had come to aid Hiroshima after the bombing had worked themselves into magical exhaustion, expending more magic than they had to offer as they attempted to save lives. As a result, the protective bubble they had placed about themselves before apparating to the site disappeared, leaving them exposed to the radiation.

It turned out that the old school of thought, which said that muggle illnesses and muggle weaponry were much more dangerous for wizards than for muggles, and muggle medicine less helpful, was true beyond what had been postulated.

Every one of the healers exposed to the radiation perished within the week.

Then, three days after Hiroshima was destroyed by the atom bomb, on August 9th, 1945, the Americans dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki.

Within a week, many wizards were petitioning that muggle-born or half-muggle wizards not be allowed to attend wizarding schools, but they were rebuffed by Albus Dumbledore.

Within a month, many pureblood wizards began demanding a war against the muggle world, but Albus Dumbledore, who would undoubtedly be Minister of Magic someday, managed to convince the general population against such a course.

Over the next thirty years, many wizards sought forand founda wizard who would lead them in a war against the muggles, who would defend them against the barbaric savagery of the muggles, who would slaughter those who threatened the continuation of the wizarding world, and Albus Dumbledore could do nothing to stop them.

Final reports placed the death count of Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined between 110,000 and 240,000 muggle lives and nearly 1,000 wizard.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Transfiguration Professor's Office, September 1945**

Albus sat morosely in his chair, staring into the crackling fire in his fireplace. He feared to close his eyes, for every time he did, he was assailed by the images, blood-smeared images of the dead and dying, of carnage the likes of which he hoped whole-heartedly he would never seen again. The wars were over, officially, and yet he found himself lost in memories of the past, unable to imagine that any new life, and rebuilding, could occur from the ruin that had been left behind. His bond to Fawkes was a small comfort to him, but only a small one.

He had survived, as he had once promised Nicholas and Perenelle that he would, but often he could not understand why.

Fawkes chirped a little, sensing his mood as he always did nowadays, hopping to his knee and offering his head to be petted.

"Oh, Fawkes," he murmured.

He was distracted from his musings when a quiet knock on his door prompted him to say, "Come in."

He watched in some amusement as Harold Potter, third-year Gryffindor and troublemaker extraordinaire, shuffled into his office, face ducked to the ground in an uncharacteristic show of embarrassment.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

The boy mumbled something.

"I can't hear you, my boy," Albus told him.

He mumbled again.

"Perhaps if you look at me when you speak," Albus suggested.

With a sigh, Harold complied, raising his head and defiantly looking his favorite teacher and Head of House in the eye.

"Oh, dear," Albus said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. Fawkes chirped hopefully at the joyful sound. "What happened?"

Harold frowned sullenly. "I was trying to get Peeves to eat a charmed lemon drop, only somehow, he managed to get it down my throat first, and now..." He gestured toward himself helplessly.

"It's a very nice shade of green," Albus offered.

Harold glared at him. "Professor! Aren't you going to undo it?"

Albus suddenly felt rather mischievous, and he shot a glance at Fawkes, who was watching the proceedings with amusement in his feathery face. "I believe that in order to do that, I will need to test the good in question," he informed the wayward prankster.

The boy was obviously reluctant to show his latest invention to a teacher, but he knew he had no choice. A resigned frown on his face, he extended the tin of sweets to his aged teacher.

Albus looked closely at the yellow sweets, intrigued. He had always had a fondness for sweets, but the seriousness of the war in recent years had kept him from sampling as many as he'd like. He picked the largest one he could find and popped it in his mouth, ignoring his student's startled gasp. He swirled it around in his mouth a bit before saying, "Did you call this a 'lemon drop?'"

"Er...yes, sir," the wide-eyed boy said, staring at the old man who was now a matching green.

"It's delightful! Absolutely the best thing I've ever tasted!" Albus effused. "Wherever did you find these?"

"Um...they're from a muggle candy shop, but really, sir, don't you think you should change us back?"

"A _muggle_ candy shop, of course! Why haven't I checked there before? Oh, I simply must remember lemon drops, they are delicious."

"Sir..."

"Such sourness and sweetness all rolled up in one..."

"Professor?"

"A burst of flavor in my mouth..."

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"What? Yes, my boy, what is it?"

"Won't you change us back now?"

"Change us back...? Oh, you mean this charming green tinge to our skin? I rather like it, actually. I think it'll make a nice fashion statement for the next week or so, don't you?"

Harold blinked at him in disbelief. "You mean, you're going to leave me stuck like this?"

Albus smiled cheerfully. "I always believe that one should take responsibility for one's actions, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harold muttered. "Good night, sir." He stomped out of the room.

Albus sighed happily, and popped another lemon drop in his mouth from the tin, which he had slyly kept. "You know, Fawkes," he said, "I think that there may be hope for us yet."

Fawkes trilled in agreement.

* * *

**Ten-Pin Alley, July, 1973**

"Well done, Minerva!" Albus exclaimed, popping a lemon drop in his mouth (one which did not have the unfortunate side effect of turning one green). It was a pity no one else seemed to adore them as he did. "Isn't this jolly good fun?"

"Oh, yes, Albus," his deputy Headmistress said dryly. "I see now why you insisted we stop here and try to teach ourselves the rules to this _marvelous _sport."

"Oh, oh, watch this one go...yes!"

"Really, Albus, how old are you?"

"Never too old to have a bit of fun, Minerva," Albus replied contentedly. The world was not at peace right now. Tom Riddle had reappeared, as he had warned long ago, this time taking the title 'Lord Voldemort' upon himself. The long-lived wizards who felt the same way about muggles as they had thirty years ago had flocked to him, ushering in an era of fear and violence. Nevertheless, Albus was determined to learn from his mistakes, to do his best to ensure that an era such as that of the 1940s never come again. "Never too old for that."

* * *

**Privet Drive, October 31st, 1981**

Albus Dumbledore held the small form gently in his hands. He looked down onto the quiet face, barely noticing the jagged lightning-bolt-shaped scar on the boy's forehead. Poor lad. Already, Harry Potter had sacrificed so much for a cause he was not even conscious of: his parents were dead, his traitorous godfather would undoubtedly be imprisoned in Azkaban for his terrible crime, and now he would be sent to live with muggles who were known for their dislike of wizards. Nevertheless, they were Harry's only surviving family, and by living with his aunt he was protected by the blood that she shared with his mother. Harry would grow up unspoiled, not arrogant, and strong, and when the time came, hopefully many years from now, he would defeat Voldemort once and for all. It was his destiny.

As he laid the tiny bundle on the front step of 4 Privet Drive, Albus could not help but feel a terrible feeling of foreboding, a niggling warning at the back of his brain, the hate-filled voice of a former student echoing in his memory. He glanced down at the child once again. Was he making a mistake? Surely not. Harry Potter was nothing like Tom Marvolo Riddle had been; Harry would live with family who cared for him. Harry would be a Gryffindor, almost without a doubt. Harry would grow up to save the world, while Voldemort refused to grow old as he planned to conquer it.

He placed the envelope which contained the letter to the Dursleys, shifted the blankets once more to make sure that Harry was warm, and apparated away.

* * *

Review Responses: 

_opalish_: Now why is it that whenever I sincerely thank you for inflating my already-overlarge ego, you think I'm joking? I'll have you know that I really did swoon when I read your last review. Well, sort of. A bit. OK, not really, but I still got a happy (see, I _can_ do Buffy-talk!). We'll see whether Spike gets along with anyone...Does the fact that I'm not blonde mean I oughtn't make blonde jokes? Darn. I know so many.

_Dragonic_: Embarrassingly enough, I do believe that Allegra is an allergy medicine or something of the sort. In actuality, I was having a devil of a time figuring out how to name a phoenix, and my mother was reading off a list of musical terms. I liked that Allegro means "quickly" (or "fast"? not sure which), but I wanted Harry to have a girl phoenix, so I changed it to Allegra, which actually means 'joy.'

_Dr Gero_: I'm glad you like it! Allegra is pronounced ah-lay-grah. "Professor Windlenot's Museum of the Strange and Unusual," eh?

_Lady FoxFire_: Oh, don't worry, that problem's definitely getting there...I finally have just about all of the plot planned out in my head, and I think it'll incorporate all the main characters, including Oz, and their problems being brought to the forefront. Most of that might not happen till Odimins rises, though.

_Kaaera_: I'm starting to wonder whether you're reading my mind! Yes, I really liked the idea that young phoenixes are clumsy just like any other creature, but they have a lot more potential to make bigger mistakes.

_r h 4 ever_: Er...sorry! I had planned for that last chapter to be much longer, including Dumbledore's Tale, but as you can see, it turned into a mammoth chapter by its own right, and I had to cut the last one short. Hope this one makes up for it! Just curious, what grade are you in, that you can skip school for fanfic? I'm envious.

_vicky .H_: I'm definitely going to have Buffy (and everyone else) see Harry without the glamour spells. I have also planned that at some point a pensieve will be used to show the Sunnydalians what a magical battle is like, but I'm not sure when.

_Lunatic Pandora1_: LOL...they probably could have healed his bumps, but y'know those phoenixes with their mischievous streaks...

_scarlettdawn_: That seems quite likely...I've got some plans ahead for Oz.

Also, thanks to Night-Owl123, gaul1, Musings-of-Apathy, HecateDeMort, Windy River, Nippledora Tweaks, silver fairy dust (Allegra is young and inexperienced), Emerald-eclipse, Zaxxon, A-man, SiLvErFaTeD (hehe...my socks thank your socks), Tutorwife23 (glad to please!), gazette, bandgsecurtiyaw, Logie, Lily Evans Black Potter Lupin, and yumigirl29 for your reviews!

* * *

Please Review!


	15. Release

Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Also, I don't know if it's rather pathetic of me to beg for reviews, but I was a bit disappointed by the lack of response to the last chapter, which took considerably more effort and time to write than any of the others. Even if you don't like chapter, or don't have much to say about it, any feedback is very much appreciated. Please, please, please review!

This chapter is currently unbetaed.

If anybody is interested, I have now formed a Yahoo! Group for this fic. You can access it through the homepage link in my profile. I will update HP and the CFaNL unbetaed there, and it will probably be updated a bit more often than I don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I also stole and altered a line from _The Silence of the Lambs_.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Release 

_Previously:_

_As he laid the tiny bundle on the front step of 4 Privet Drive, Albus could not help but feel a terrible feeling of foreboding, a niggling warning at the back of his brain, the hate-filled voice of a former student echoing in his memory. He glanced down at the child once again. Was he making a mistake? Surely not. Harry Potter was nothing like Tom Marvolo Riddle had been; Harry would live with family who cared for him. Harry would be a Gryffindor, almost without a doubt. Harry would grow up to save the world, while Voldemort refused to grow old as he planned to conquer it._

_He placed the envelope which contained the letter to the Dursleys, shifted the blankets once more to make sure that Harry was warm, and apparated away._

**Librarian's Office, Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale, CA, November 14th 1997 **

"I'm so sorry, my dear, dear boy," Albus whispered, sinking slowly from the bed to the floor, so that he was on his knees almost as a supplicant before the young man, taking one of Harry's hands into both of his own, resting his wrinkled forehead against the smooth, youthful palm as though seeking a blessing. "So sorry."

Harry barely realized that there were tears streaking his face until a gnarled old hand reached up and gently brushed them away. He looked down at Allegra, who was perched on his knee and who he belatedly realized was making low, soothing noises in an attempt to alleviate his distress. Albus' other hand came up and gently tilted Harry's chin further downward so that they were looking eye to eye. Harry was unsurprised to find that Albus' blue eyes, too, were filled to overflowing with tears, as well as an indefinable sorrow that bespoke over a century and a half worth of regret.

"Tom Riddle was right about me when he called me a criminal," Albus said hoarsely. "He was right. I took the mistakes that I made with him and I magnified them a hundredfold when I committed them with you. You, whom I had sworn to protect. You, whom I have loved like a grandson but have been afraid of treating as such. You, who are without a doubt the most amazing person I have ever had the honor of knowingnot because of your magical ability, or even your bravery, but because you have an innate goodness, an intrinsic strength of spirit, which puts every other person I have ever known to shame."

Harry turned his face away from Albus' worshipful gaze, his face burning from embarrassment or something else. "There's nothing special about me," he muttered his typical denial.

"Don't say that!" Albus exclaimed, his voice suddenly turning fierce. "Don't belittle yourself in front of me, Harry. I have watched you for six years, and I have seen your soul; how could I not, when you show its purity in everything you do. Look at me." When Harry's eyes remained steadfastly averted, he repeated, "Look at me!" Slowly, Harry turned his pained gaze to meet his mentor's. "The worst crime I have committed, Harry, the worst of a lifetime of mistakes, was in loving you but being afraid to show you. I cared about you, but was so convinced that my love was poison that I never stopped to consider how much worse the hatred of others would harm you. I watched you when you first entered the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and I was blind to the fact that already then you had ceased to be a child. I lied to myself, refused to admit that you were wasting away before my eyes in the years that followed." His voice broke, and Harry used a hand to furiously dash a tear from his face. "I betrayed your trust and your affection, and every time I expected you to rip out my heart, to strike me down as I so deserved, you forgave me. You renewed your faith in me. You looked at me with respect and, dare I say, love, when I expected and almost desired your hatred."

Albus pressed Harry's hand lightly against his face, and it came away covered in a thin sheen of tears. "In you, I could have created another Voldemort. Though you have always denied it, you have the charisma, the magical power, and the intelligence to have been a greater Dark Lord than even he. The only flaw in your heart was your love, a love that somehow you felt for everything in the world around you. The prophecy called it a 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' but in truth I have never understood it, either." He sighed as he looked away briefly. "One day, I may ask for your forgiveness. I know that you would give it to me now, if I asked, but I would be undeserving. That day will not come any time soon."

Albus' watery blue eyes closed wearily for a moment as he collected himself. "I fear, Harry, that the only person you have ever truly had the capacity to hate...is yourself."

* * *

"I'm hungry." 

"I have some nice cold cow's blood at home, if you'd like some," Angel offered sweetly.

Spike twitched in his chair, although his furious movement was hindered by the ropes which tightly bound him. "That is absolutely disgusting! Cow's blood? Why don't you just drink rat's blood while you're at it. What are you, an animal?"

"Better rat's blood than an innocent human's!"

"I'm sensing a bit of bitterness, old chap. Upset that the Slayer doesn't volunteer a bit of supercharged blood for you to partake of?"

"You foul, loathsome, disgusting monster!"

"Oh, that hurts, really it does. I can see why you like Buffy; she's so much better at the clever insults."

"Well, that, and the fact that she could dust your arse in a heartbeat if she chose to," Angel mocked.

Spike grinned. "A Slayer tried to kill me once. I drank her blood with a little boy and some nice Chianti." He slurped, a look of mock rapture on his face.

"Why, you..."

"Do shut up!" Giles exclaimed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead irritably. "It's bad enough having to sit here guarding Spike without having to listen to you two bicker all night!"

"Look, all I said was that I was hungry," Spike protested. "Is that a crime?"

"When the thing you're hungry for is human blood, yes, it is a crime, Spike," Angel said.

"Really?" Spike asked, lifting an eyebrow. "A crime, is it? Are you trying to tell me that you don't feel that hunger every...moment...of...the...day? That you don't...imagine the _taste_? That you don't remember the _thrill_ of the hunt, the exultation of the _kill_?"

"I should kill you while I have the chance!" Angel growled, grabbing the other vampire by the neck menacingly.

"Both of you! Just be quiet, please!" Giles glanced beseechingly at Snape, who was reclining in a corner with a dark smirk on his face as he watched the proceedings. "Can't you do anything to make them shut up?"

Snape smirked lazily at him before pointing his wand at both vampires in turn, murmuring, "_Silencio_," each time.

Angel and Spike glared, in agreement for once, at the wizard as their mouths moved noiselessly.

"Thank God," Giles murmured, reveling in the blessed silence.

"Amen," Snape agreed.

* * *

"That's ridiculous, Professor," Harry protested weakly. "I've hated a lot of people: Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort, even Snape." 

Albus smiled a bit at that. "You make me wonder whether you even know what hate is, Harry," he remarked. "You must recall that you were unable to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange because, even when incensed by the death of Sirius, you were unable to muster enough hatred. Voldemort you have blamed, and rightly so, for the death of your parents and many others. Nevertheless, when you killed him, at the very end, you did not revel in the pain he had sustained from his wounds, and you did not prolong his suffering. You killed him, yes, but you did so for justice, not revenge. And, as for your claim that you have hated Professor Snape, I think that your initial dislike for him was never extreme enough to be considered hatred, and I am certain that in recent years that dislike has morphed into respect, albeit reluctantly."

* * *

"How much longer are they going to take?" Giles wondered restlessly. "Surely Albus must have woken up hours ago." 

"Don't whine," Snape sneered, "It's unbecoming in an old man."

"Old?" Giles demanded. "Old? You're calling me old? I'm forty-eight!"

"Hmmm. It must be living on the Hellmouth that's worn you so, then," Snape speculated. "You know, causing all the wrinkles and early graying."

"At least I take showers!" Giles exclaimed. "Do you even know what shampoo is, you greasy git?"

"You wound me with your words," Snape said dryly. "I've never heard _that_ insult before. I was simply remarking on your haggard and generally unappealing appearance; there's no need to get so defensive, or to so clumsily attempt to change the subject."

"Defensive? As if I have to defend myself to you! You were a Death Eater!"

Snape became very still.

Taking his opponent's silence to mean that he had scored a point, Giles continued, "Oh, yes, I've heard about your exploits, Snape. Killing and torturing muggles, weren't you? Fawning before your Dark Lord?"

Snape clenched his teeth.

"Then, when you realized what you had done, you came crawling back to Dumbledore, begging him to help you..."

"I don't deny it," Snape snarled. "I've been doing my penance for the past sixteen years, and it will never be enough." He paused for a moment to allow his surprising admission to sink in before beginning his own assault. "And you, Ripper? I suppose you're completely free from sin? Summoning a murderous demon was an accident, after all, wasn't it, and the people who _died_ because of your experimentation, well, they were hardly your fault, were they?"

"It _was_ an accident!" Giles shouted. "An accident, unlike the crimes _you_ committed as a Death Eater-"

"It's surprising that Voldemort didn't invite you to be a Death Eater, considering your history-"

"You malicious-"

"Murderous-"

"Unrepentant-"

"Arrogant-"

"Hateful-"

"Delusional-"

"Bastard!" they finished in unison.

Angel and Spike watched, wide-eyed, and waited expectantly for the two men to come to blows, none of them noticing as the doors opened and a group of weary teenagers entered.

"Uh, guys, what's going on?" Buffy asked.

The adults spun to face the Slayer and her friends, Giles with a guilty look on his face.

* * *

"Still, Sir, I don't hate myself," Harry said. "I know that I did what I had to do." 

"It's no use denying it, Harry," Albus said kindly. He laboriously stood from his kneeling position, his old bones creaking in protest as he settled himself back on the bed. As if responding to an unheard call, Fawkes flew and landed on his shoulder. Allegra mimicked the older phoenix, flying from Harry's knee to his shoulder so that Harry and Albus were sitting facing each other in mirroring positions. "The fact that this lovely lady" he gestured to Allegra "bonded to you shows that you bear strong negative feelings towards yourself."

"Oh?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Yes. I will tell you what Nicholas Flamel told me many years ago, Harry," the older wizard told him. "You see, it is a tradition that when a phoenix bonds with a wizard, his or her first action is to take the newly-bonded wizard to the wizard who most recently had bonded before. Thus, I was taken to Nicholas Flamel, and Allegra took you to me. As you may have noticed, newly-bonded phoenixes tend to be as clumsy as young children. It takes them a while to become used to using their powers and to outgrow that initial awkwardness." He chuckled briefly, remembering when Fawkes had delivered him to the Flamels, before sobering again. "Nicholas explained to me, as I will now explain to you, and as you will explain to any wizard who comes to you, that phoenixes only ever choose wizards of a pure spirit who need protection from themselves most of all. Perhaps Professor Binns covered some of this in History of Magic...?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Does it have to do with a goblin rebellion?" he asked. Albus shook his head. "Then, no, he didn't cover it."

"You may have noticed that in his portraits, Merlin is never shown with a phoenix. This bothered me for quite a while when I was younger; after all, wasn't Merlin the most powerful and influential wizard to ever live? Oughtn't he to have had a phoenix? The answer is, no. He had no need of a phoenix. Merlin grew up proud of himself and self-confident. If he had doubts, they were never severe enough that he endangered himself. You and I, on the other hand, are not so sure of ourselves. We have proven ourselves in battles of both the spirit and against evil, but we are not strong enough to face what we have done after. That is where our phoenixes come in; they stabilize our souls, so to speak. They anchor us and encourage us so that we are not in danger of losing ourselves to our guilt or self-loathing."

"Are you saying that Allegra bonded with me to keep me from committing suicide?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps to keep you from disappearing from the Wizarding World entirely." Albus peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "I neglected to watch you when you were a child, but I have not made that mistake in the past year, Harry. I'm well aware of the fact that you have established a well-funded bank account, a passport and driver's license, and house under a false, muggle identity. You have prepared yourself to flee, but you must realize that it would now be impossible to maintain any sort of anonymity in the muggle world with Allegra bonded to you."

"A blessing and a curse rolled into one, eh?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the innocent-looking phoenix.

"Certainly more of a blessing," Albus said. "It does my heart much good to know that you have such a guardian watching over you, my dear boy."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a powerful punch breaking a nose. His eyes widening, Harry rushed to the office door and threw it open.

* * *

Review Responses: 

_old-crow_: Thanks for your feedback! I'm glad you liked the chapter, since it took a lot out of me to write. I've always had trouble understanding how Dumbledore could have just abandoned Harry to the Dursleys with nothing but a note, as well. I'll check out your fic sometime this week, since, thankfully, I'm on break! Woo-hoo! (er...sorry, just had to let out some post-finals excitement).

_Kaaera_: Yup, I loathe, detest, hate, and otherwise don't like big tests. Thank God they're over for another ten weeks.

_scarlettdawn_: Thanks for your help! I've re-uploaded the chapter with the details you mentioned.

_Morgan Daratrazanoff_: Thanks for your comments; unfortunately, I'm almost 100 sure that Faith won't be making an appearance in this story. It's already going to be quite cluttered with characters the way I have it planned out, and her character would just be too much to add to the mix.

Also thanks to r h 4 ever, A-man, HecateDeMort, Dragonic, your biggest fan, Night-Owl123, gaul1, whimsy007 (glad you like it, and I totally agree about Buffy and Harry. As to the other...Magic 8 Ball says it is unlikely), Lunatic Pandora1, Von, bandgsecurtiyaw, Windy River, and pussbb for your reviews! You rock!

* * *

Please, please, please review!


	16. What's the Buzz

Note: Wow! That was a great review response...I see that shameless begging really does the trick. In that case, please continue with your comments, because, as I've said before, they really inspire me to write, and they give me a happy (to use Buffy-talk).

This chapter is currently un-betaed due to technical difficulties.

My Yahoo! Group for this fic can be accessed through my profile with the "homepage" link.

Er...I think I'm cheating by doing this, but I'm changing the very last sentence to the last chapter; someone's nose was broken, not their jaw. I'm not a medical expert, but I'm fairly certain broken jaw means unable to speak, and that would kind of cause some problems.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I also don't own the title of the chapter, which is a line taken from Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical _Jesus Christ Superstar_.

* * *

Chapter 15: What's the Buzz 

_Previously_:

_Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a powerful punch breaking a nose. His eyes widening, Harry rushed to the office door and threw it open._

He blinked at the tableau that confronted him.

Willow, Oz, and Xander were standing by the doors to the library looking somewhat aghast. Giles and Snape were standing as though they were about to come to blows with each other, although they were now watching what was happening in mild shock. Angel looked amused. Buffy was standing menacingly over Spike. And Spike...well, Spike had copious blood pouring from his broken nose, and his lips were moving soundlessly so that at first glance he appeared so infuriated that he was beyond words. At second glance, however, Harry recognized the effects of a silencing charm, and, curious about what exactly was going on, he pointed his wand at the restrained vampire and cancelled the spell.

"bloody hell wad dat? Whad did you do dat for? Whad de bloody hell did I do! I'b died do de bloody chair, you bloody slayer!"

"Buffy?" Harry asked. "What's going on?" He heard Albus walk from the office to stand behind him.

She shrugged unrepentantly. "Everyone seemed pretty worked up. I figured Spike was the problem."

"Oh, yes, blame de defenseless vambire," Spike complained. He licked blood off of his lips.

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Would the defenseless vampire like me to fix it for him?" she asked. Before he could answer, she stalked up to him, grabbed his nose mercilessly, and wrenched it back into place.

"Aaaah!" Snape cried at the sudden pain. "By God, woman, you call _me_ heardless!"

She just smirked at him. Angel shook his head, saying, "You really are pathetic, Spike."

Snape finally broke eye contact with Giles, bored by their fairly even competition, and he turned to face Harry and Albus. "Are you quite recov" He stopped mid-question, eyes widening in astonishment as his gaze slid from Albus to the young man standing in front of him. "What the devil happened to your face, Potter?"

Of course, such a question, when voiced in the middle of a group of teenagers and immature vampires, tends to arouse considerable curiosity. Thus, Harry felt his own eyes go wide and his hands go to his face as everyone turned to look at his face, which was still devoid of a glamour, but which had only become clearly visible in the semi-bright lights of the library. He knew that he looked terrible: his cheeks sunken, dark bruises under his eyes, bones protruding as if only a thin covering of skin kept them from being exposed to the world. He was also very pale, wan, even, in contrast to what had been his typical tan.

"By George," Giles murmured, adjusting his glasses and shifting to try to get a better look at the now-mortified teenager.

"Are you all right Harry?" asked Willow, whose voice was rather more high-pitched than usual, terrified at the thought of her hero being in such awful condition.

"Huh," Oz said in an unusual exclamation of surprise.

Buffy stared at him in unabashed, perplexed curiosity.

Albus placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Harry leaned back into the older wizard's warmth for a moment. Then, turning away from the gawking observers, Harry raised his wand and quickly murmured his familiar glamour charm. He felt the faint tingle of magic which told him that his spell had settled back into place before turning back to face them. "Don't ask," he pleaded.

Albus squeezed Harry's shoulder once more before he pushed past him, drawing everyone's attention from the younger man. "Perhaps now that we are all present and conscious, we could finally begin our discussion of Odiminis," he suggested.

"A capital idea," Giles agreed, grateful for the opportunity to leave the awkward situation behind and to get into research-mode. The others agreed, although it was clear that there was a great deal of lingering curiosity.

"Well, I don't know if I feel like helping you lot anymore," Spike said obstinately. "I come here to help you, and what do I get? A bloody 'thank you for trying to save the world, Spike'? No! I get tied up, insulted, and smacked around! I won't stand for it!"

"You're sitting, actually," Xander said helpfully.

Dumbledore sighed in frustration. "Must we go through this every time, Spike? You know that the simple truth of the matter is that if you refuse to help us, we will have no reason not to kill you. Perhaps that is sufficient incentive for you to get over your wounded pride, as the rest of us have already done, and to start behaving like someone with hundreds of years of experience under his belt."

"Hmph," Spike pouted. He hesitated before saying, "All right, fine. But I want a promise out of you all first: no more beating me up, no more tying me to chairs, and no killing me when this whole thing's over and Odiminis' been sent back to whatever hell dimension he's about to come out of."

Buffy pretended to think. "How about this," she countered. "No killing you when this whole thing's over, assuming you actually help us, but we'll leave it up to my discretion when you get tied up or beaten up."

Spike glared furiously at her before relenting. "Fine," he growled. "But rememberyou attack me, and I _will_ fight back."

"Fine, fine," Giles said impatiently. "That's settled. Now, tell us what you know about Odiminis."

Spike closed his eyes for a moment. A long moment.

"Well?" Buffy demanded sharply.

He opened his eyes again to frown at her. "I'm thinking."

"That'd be a first," Xander said.

Spike's glower turned from Buffy to Xander. "Look," he said. "I might be willing to take some of that crap from the Slayer, but I will not be insulted by some pipsqueak I wouldn't even bother biting."

"Hey!" the aforementioned pipsqueak protested. "I'll have you know"

"Xander, shut up," Buffy told him. She turned back to Spike. "Quit thinking. Start talking."

"At least tell me what you already know about Odiminis so I know where to start," he said.

Giles looked embarrassed. "We know that he's going to rise sometime in the next six months, and that he'll cause an apocalypse if we can't stop him. We also know that there's a riddle"

"Yeah, that whole 'can't kill him with magic, can't hurt him without it' thing," Spike interrupted. "I have no idea what that part means, of course." He tried to lean forward in the chair, but was restrained by his bindings. "Can we lose the ropes?" he asked with a pained voice.

Buffy considered a moment, then grabbed a knife from Giles' weapons locker, stalked up to the vampire, and slashed the ropes off in one smooth motion.

"Thanks," he said. He massaged his nose gingerly before leaning forward again. "Now, what I do know is when and where he will rise, and what kinds of powers he has."

"And...?" Angel prompted.

"He'll rise from one of the old tombs in Hillside Cemetery on December 25th."

"Christmas Day. Joy," Buffy said flatly. "So we arm ourselves up, you wizards get ready to do your thing, and we storm the tomb when he rises. Should be simple enough."

"Hold on, there, Xena," Spike said. "You do that and there's not a chance I'm going with you."

"And why would that be?" Angel demanded.

"Because," Spike said slowly, as if speaking to a very slow child. "When Odiminis rises, every living or undead creature within a half-mile radius will die."

"So we wait half a mile away," Buffy said matter-of-factly. "I mean, how fast can this guy run?"

"He'll be able to apparate," Spike said.

An ominous silence followed his words as the wizards took in their meaning. The others watched in confusion.

"How?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time since the interrogation began.

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Well, that's the key to this demon, isn't it? Look, forget the magic stuff for a minute. Odiminis' true power, the only power he actually has, is to draw forth evil. He can sense it; it's like nectar to him. He senses it, and then he calls to it, and it responds. It either becomes a part of him, making him stronger, or it manifests itself in the being who originally possessed it."

"What does that have to do with magic?" Snape asked.

"Think about it," Spike replied. "This demon is Evil incarnate; he rules over the worst hell dimension that there is, torturing most of the most evil souls in existence. And who else can claim that they are the epitome of evil, other than Dark Wizards? They give themselves over to evil, they allow it to encompass them, they follow its every whim until they are consumed by it. However, he can't use his ability to absorb evil when he's in his dimension; one of those pesky rules of the Powers that Be, you know. So, he's been waiting to rise. He's been waiting millennia for this chance. Understand, once he sets foot on this planet, he can use his powers however he wants. His very first action will be to summon to him and make part of him the easiest soul, so to speak, that he can from his dimension." He paused, waiting for them to understand what he was saying.

"The easiest," Giles said. "How is this determined?"

"The most evil, of course," Spike said. "Now, at just about any time other than right now, that would be hard to predict. There have been so many dark wizards over the ages, it seems like it should be hard to figure out who the most evil was."

"Voldemort," Harry said. "Voldemort is the most evil, isn't he?"

"Yes," Spike said.

"How could you possibly know that for sure?" Snape demanded, pale at the thought of his old master rising again. "Surely there have been wizards even more evil than he?"

"Perhaps there have been," Spike acknowledged. "However, Voldemort is definitely up there in the top five most evil wizards of all timeand you must remember, the others have been in that hell dimension for untold eons."

"Eons?" Dumbledore repeated.

Spike gestured toward Angel. "He was dead for a month, but centuries passed where he was. When he came back, he was feral, inhuman, barely more than an animal, wasn't he? He wasn't even in the worst hell dimension, and he was gone for an insignificant fraction of the time most of these wizards have been gone."

"What does that matter?" Angel asked.

"You were almost an animal when you came back," Spike said. "These wizards _are_ animals now. They have no minds left. And it is a simple fact that an animal in and of itself has no morality; it cannot be good or evil."

"Are you saying," Giles said slowly, "that these wizards are now _less evil_ than they used to be because they have undergone such torment?"

"Yes, precisely," Spike said. "They have forgotten everything they once knew; how to do their magic, their very identities, why they have been sent to that place. I'd imagine that the only ones who do remember are"

"Voldemort and Grindelwald," Albus finished for him.

"Yes," Spike said. "But even Grindelwald will be uncertain of his identity by now. Voldemort, on the other hand, will be at the stage where his pain only increases his hatred, where every blow will remind him of who sent him here, of what has now been denied to him. He will be seething with the evil. Odiminis should have an easy time of it."

"So, lemme get this straight," Buffy said. "This Odiminis somehow comes here from a hell dimension, killing everything around him, summons Volde-dude's evil spirit from that hell dimension, bonds with him, 'apparates'which I assume is some sort of transportationaway, and then...?"

"Immediately begins summoning older, less evil, but still-powerful spirits to him," Spike supplied. "From what I've heard, there's some other effect of his ability to summon evil, as well, but no one seems too clear on exactly what will happen; he's never done this before, after all."

All eyes turned to Harry as he stumbled backwards on shaky legs, a hand pressed to his face. "No, no, no," he muttered.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said. "Harry, please try to calm down."

Harry raised furious, pain-filled eyes to meet his Headmaster's. "Calm down? Calm down! This was supposed to be over! Voldemort is supposed to be dead and gone! I was supposed to be finished! What the hell was the point in killing him if he never dies!"

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it's not You-Know, er, I mean, Voldemort you'll be facing," Spike said, attempting to console him.

"Oh?" Snape asked. Not that he was trying to make Harry feel better, he was simply feeling curious himself.

"No, it'll be an age-old demon with all of Voldemort's knowledge and power, plus the knowledge and power of every other evil wizard ever born," Spike said smugly.

"Try not to sound so happy about that, Spike," Angel said. "It's your butt we're trying to save, too, remember?"

Spike pursed his lips. "Bollocks. I'd forgotten about that. Drat. Well, at least we have a prophecy, so we know he's not unbeatable."

"Right," Buffy said sarcastically. "We just have no idea how to beat him."

"That's G-man's job, isn't it?" Xander asked.

"Please don't call me that, Xander," Giles said tiredly. "Now, look, it's been a long night, and at least we have a starting point for our research now. Perhaps we should go to bed and think on it more in the morning."

The teenagers made agreeable noises, but the wizards were silent, each still pondering the terrible repercussions if a demon of such power were to be unleashed.

Harry ventured, still pale and trembling against a wall, "But there's one thing we haven't discussed. I know that you all are experienced with apocalypses and such, but I'm not. What is Odiminis' goal? What is he going to try to do?"

Spike looked at him calmly, but beneath his placid façade, a terrible fear lurked in his eyes. "He is Evil personified," he said. "And Evil's only goal is the utter destruction of and agony for everything it touches: man, vampire, demon, wizard, even little puppy dogs."

* * *

Review Responses: 

_athenakitty_: I mentioned earlier that the Dursleys were in Azkaban for what they did to Harry; I'm not sure if we'll be seeing them (or Draco Malfoy, since he's also in Azkaban) in this story or not.

_r h 4 ever_: I'm a bit sketchy on the details, but I do know that the demon Giles and co. summoned ended up escaping their control and killing at least one person. Then, later, it came back and started killing off all his old friends until only Giles and Ethan Rayne were left. As to how Giles knew Snape was a Death Eater, I'm assuming his trial was a pretty public event, and even if Giles isn't directly connected to the Wizarding World, he keeps tabs on it, so he would have learned about a bit of Snape's past.

_Miliardo Peacecraft_: I think the full moon'll be coming up pretty soon, never fear! Oz's status as a werewolf will play at least a semi-important role later. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Also thanks to Kaaera (I do hope my story provides a nice, brief vacation from that awful land of studying...here's another chance for a break!), jbcna, gaul1, FanFictionDreamer, Lunatic Pandora1, Weasely, Tutorwife23 (welcome back!), heala, Musicstarlover, cheryse, ShAdOwAdRiA, Saorise, A-man, Werewolves are People Too, Windy River, bandgsecurtiyaw, Silver Angel 7 (I'm glad you liked Tom Riddle's speeches! Those were hard to write, since I wanted to present him as charismatic yet evil. Glad you like it! I'll try to keep my imagination flowing.), ssecca01, ShadoweGoddess, Ghostly Green (ooh, don't let me distract you from your studies...), Musings-of-Apathy (sorry bout the non-Harry/Buffy pairing), Tmctflyboy, vicky .h (it's a-comin', it's a-comin'. How did the non-glamour scene work out? There'll be more about it later), LIMAR, HecateDeMort, and Charmina (welcome back! Thanks for reviewing, 'tis appreciated.) for your reviews. You guys are awesome!

* * *

Please, please review!


	17. Tea and Talks

Note: Thanks for the great review responses, everybody! Over 300! Yes!

I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, and for the shortness of the chapter; school started again this week, and I got sick last Sunday and am just now feeling better. However, I warn you all that, due to the new school quarter starting, my updating might well slow down to updates only on Thursdays and/or weekends (i.e., days I don't have school). Sorry!

I was going to say "Wow! I got my first flame! How exciting!" when I looked back over Nic'sim87's actual review and realized that it's not a flame at all. He/She says, "i don't like dumbledore that much, I don't like Buffy more than i dislike dumbledore, but I hate Xander. i hate the guy who plays him. he looks like a doofus... Then I'm going to go look for the creators of Buffy the Vampire Slayer kill them. The n hunt down J.K.Rowling explani to her in detail why I dislike dumbledore the bumblebee then grant her a slow and excruciatingly painful death."

While this is a fascinating insight into Nic'sim87's character, it actually has nothing whatsoever to do with my story. So, I will request that if someone decides to honor me with a flame (note the sarcasm), please make sure that it does actually relate to my story, rather than being a complete, utter, waste of cyberspace.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em!

* * *

Chapter 16: Tea and Talks 

**November 15th, 1997, 41 days to Christmas**

Harry lay in his bed and stared restlessly at the ceiling. He knew that he should be sleeping, since he had to wake up in, oh, four hours to go to that dreadful high school, but he had realized as soon as he had lain down that it would be a fruitless attempt. His head was pounding with painful thoughts, and all the Occlumency skill in the world didn't seem to be enough to focus his mind and allow him to think rationally. Even Allegra's soothing presence wasn't enough to distract him from the maelstrom of horror within his mind.

_Voldemort is coming back_. _Grindelwald is coming back. How can Dumbledore be so calm. Thank Merlin for Allegra. How can I face him again? It's even been prophesized that I can't beat him this time. How many more will be killed this time! How many more of my friends will die in agony! GOD! SHUT UP!_

He sat up abruptly, suddenly needing to move, to get out of the room. "Harry?" Silas' sleepy voice reached him, concerned.

"It'sss all right, Sssilass, go back to ssssleep," Harry replied. He didn't wait for a response before silently padding from the room. He crept silently down the stairs toward the kitchen, resolved to make himself a cup of tea which would hopefully help calm his spirits. He paused at the foot of the stairs before peeking into the living room.

He couldn't help the small, incredulous grin that formed on his face at what he saw. An enormous disco ball hung from the ceiling, spinning slowly and sending dazzlingly bright white lights darting around the room. Lying on a huge water bed-complete with actual fish swimming around inside-was his esteemed Headmaster. The old wizard was snoring heavily; each inhalation tugged the end of his long white beard towards him, until it was almost in his mouth, each exhalation pushed it away again. He appeared to be wearing a yellow night guard over his teeth, but from the way that every once in a while he would run his tongue across it, Harry suspected that it was lemon drop-flavored. Dumbledore's attire consisted of a pair of outrageous pajamas: neon green pants which glared brightly and were covered in animated snitches, which darted every which way on his legs, causing him to twitch at odd intervals as if he could actually feel them, and a shiny orange-red shirt which magnified and reflected the reflected light of the disco ball. _La Vie en Rose_ drifted quietly throughout the room, playing from nonexistent speakers and providing quite a contrast to the disco set-up.

He shook his head fondly. "Old kook," he murmured. He was grateful to Dumbledore's sense of humor especially at times like these, since he already felt quite a bit more relaxed after seeing his mentor's chosen sleeping conditions.

As he turned to leave, he didn't noticed when his Headmaster cracked an eye open, observed Harry's mirth, and then allowed himself to smile happily albeit triumphantly at his success in lifting the boy's spirits, if only for a short time.

Ten minutes later, Harry sat, brooding, at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of dreadful tea, staring unseeingly at the wall. He was startled out of his morbid thoughts when he heard the sound of light footsteps, and he looked up to see Buffy enter the kitchen in her pajamas and slippers. She looked unsurprised to see him.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" he asked quietly.

She smiled a bit before shaking her head. "Na; I have a math test tomorrow, and those always keep me up the night before," she told him casually. "I heard you come down and figured you were going to make some tea, since that's what you Brits always do, and I thought I'd get some as well."

He gestured to the pot. "Help yourself."

"Thanks."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, Harry resuming his examination of the kitchen wall, and Buffy beginning an examination of Harry. She had been shocked earlier that night when she had seen his face without the 'glamer' spell; the confident, strong youth she had come to expect had suddenly been replaced in her eyes by a frail, sickly, terribly sad boy. She almost fancied that if she concentrated enough on his face she could see through the spell to the emaciated face which it was disguising.

She took a sip of her tea, and as she did so, looked down. She frowned a bit in concentration when she caught sight of one of his hands. "What's that?" she inquired, pointing at his hand.

"Huh?" Harry asked in response, before blinking and holding up the hand to the light so that he could see it better. The words _I must not tell lies_ were shown in sharp relief, although the scars had faded significantly with time. "Oh, this."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't carve that yourself for some masochistic reason, did you?"

He smiled faintly. "I did, but only because a demented professor forced me to in detention," he replied. At her curious expression, he explained, "She hated me and thought that I was lying about Voldemort coming back, so she gave me detention whenever she could and forced me to use a blood quill to carve words into the back of my hand."

Buffy blinked as she absorbed his statement, and he watched her intently for her response. He was pleased at the lack of pity in her face. Very matter-of-factly, she informed him, "I had a teacher who was really a praying mantis looking for virgin teenage boys to mate with, once."

He stared at her in astonishment. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm. Xander was all smitten with her, too, which kinda made it all worse when she went all big and green and buggy on him."

"Poor Xander," Harry murmured.

"Well, yes, but it was also a really good reason for Buffy to say, 'I told you so,'" she quipped.

"You knew she was a praying mantis?" he asked incredulously.

"Spidey sense," she reminded him. At his still-perplexed, she remembered, "Oh, that's right, maybe you haven't heard of that; well, you know the whole 'into every generation' yadda yadda yadda, right?"

Harry smiled faintly. "I think I've read something of the sort before, yes."

"Oh, good. That means you won't have to listen to Giles say it to you; it's his favorite quote," she confided. "Anyways, the whole 'I'm the only slayer' thing-which isn't really true now, since Giles told me some girl named Faith was called after Kendra died, and Kendra was called cuz I died-" Harry blinked in utter confusion "-means that I can sense vampires and demons and other unsavory creature. It's a gift. That's how I knew Miss French was really a praying mantis; well, that, and because I saw her head turn all the way around once."

"I see," Harry lied. He had never thought of American accents as being hard to understand before, but he was sure that she was practically speaking another language as she chattered away. He wondered what an appropriate response to her sally was: '_My teacher had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head,_' perhaps? Or maybe, '_My teacher was a Death Eater who had to take a disgusting potion every hour to disguise himself as a famous Auror_"? Or, since she was the Slayer and dealt with Dark creatures on a regular basis, "My DADA professor in my third year turned out to be a werewolf, and none of the students knew about it, of course, or he wouldn't have been allowed to teach, so my friends and I were out one night, doing some...business...and barely escaped with our lives."

He lost himself in thought, reminiscing about that night-the night he had truly met his Godfather, Sirius Black, who had been so cruelly torn from him in his fifth year, the second casualty of the war who had been close to Harry's heart-the night which was his third adventure with his two best friends, who, too, had died-and didn't notice Buffy's stricken expression at his casual reference to a werewolf.

"That's nice," she said stiffly. She set her tea down on the table, then stood. "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to try to get some sleep before I have to go to school."

He frowned at her sudden change in temper, then mentally shrugged. It was clear that he still hadn't begun to scratch the surface of the Slayer's mind-boggling character. "Good night, then," he replied.

"Good night."

Harry spent the rest of the early morning sitting at the kitchen table, lost in memories of the war against Voldemort.

* * *

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed. "Giles!" 

"Huh? What?"

Buffy followed the sound of her Watcher's incoherent responses to her summons up the stairs to some tables at the back of the library, which were strewn with tombs of arcane demon lore galore.

Giles blinked owlishly at her from behind his glasses, his hair mussed and his clothes askewthe same clothes which he had been wearing the night before.

"Did you go home at all?" she demanded.

"Good morning, to you, too," Giles said. He straightened his tie primly. "I had no desire to go home and spend the evening in the same house as that bloody-I mean, my guest," he replied. "I decided that sleeping in the library was the lesser of two evils."

She rolled her eyes, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Children." Then, louder, she announced, "There was something I had to tell you, but I've forgotten it in the wake of my mental scarring at what I just saw." She paused, waiting for him to inquire what exactly had so disturbed her.

Giles nodded absently, clearly not listening to what she was saying.

"Giles?" she said, pouting. "Aren't you going to ask what I saw?"

"Hmmm? Oh! What did you see?"

"Snyder," she said slowly.

"Yes, that would scar just about anyone," Giles said.

She glared at him, then repeated, "Snyder...wearing a Goofy hat."

Giles gaped. Closed his mouth. "I see."

"Snyder...wearing a Goofy hat...humming 'It's a Small World After All.'"

"Oh, dear," the faux librarian stated. "A curse, do you think?"

She grinned a bit. "I think we can attribute it to our visiting Headmaster, actually. You should have _seen_ what he did to our living room last night!"

"Knowing Albus, I'll not dare to inquire," Giles said. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Was there an actual reason for your visit, Buffy, or did you merely come to regale me with your tales about our estimable principal?"

"What? Oh, right, actually, there was something I'm pretty worried about. Isn't the full moon coming up soon?"

"Yes; tomorrow is the first day of the three days of the full moon," Giles allowed.

"Well, what are we gonna do about the wizards?" Buffy asked. "It sounds like they really dislike werewolves; weren't they talking earlier about how many Harry'd killed? And just last night Harry was telling me how he and his friends barely escaped alive from a werewolf a few years ago."

Giles frowned. "It hadn't occurred to me that we needed to worry about that," he said. "Albus has always been known for his fair treatment of werewolves and the like; I just assumed that his friends, and especially Harry Potter, would be the same."

"OK, first, Giles, lay off the whole 'Harry Potter' business. You know him in person, you've seen that he's just a messed up kid, stop treating him like some hero. Second, you know what they say about when you assume..."

"Thank you, Buffy."

"So what are we going to do about this?" she asked, staring expectantly at her Watcher.

"I'm loath to try to hide this from our guests," Giles said reluctantly, "But perhaps it would be for the best. If you can keep them busy tomorrow night, and the two nights after, and away from the library, I can keep watch over Oz."

"Oooh, Distract-o-Girl; I can do that," Buffy grinned.

"Glad to hear it. Now, don't you have a class to be in?"

Buffy checked the clock, and her eyes suddenly widened in horror. "Oh my god, I'm late for my math test!"

Giles attributed the impressive speed of her departure to her Slayer abilities.

* * *

"Don't you even have a TV in here?" 

"Go to sleep, Spike."

"Look, I'm not just going to sleep all day; d'you know, almost every vampire spends half of his un-life sleeping? Well, not me. I'm not that boring."

"Then read a book or something, and stop bothering me! It's nearly noon!"

"Aw, is it past wittle Angel's bedtime?"

"Spike!"

"Fine, fine, don't get your knickers in a twist."

_Five minutes later_

"Is this poetry? That's disgusting!"

"SPIKE!"

* * *

_Riiiiing!_

_Click._

"What?" Snape snarled. "I'm busy."

"Just checking that you're doing fine with the Wolfsbane Potion," Harry said calmly. "Do you have everything you need over there?"

"While the accommodations are a bit lacking, they will suffice, Potter," he said irritably. Then, Harry could hear the unrestrained malice in his voice when he continued, "While typically I would prefer not to have to work in my host's bedroom for the most odorous of the phases in the brewing process, I unfortunately discovered this morning that it is the only room with the correct temperature for that very important stage. I'm sure dear Rupert will forgive me."

"I'm sure," Harry said dryly. "Well, if you need anything-help or ingredients-let me know, and I'll see what I can do."

"Help? Help! Are you truly so arrogant, Potter, that you think that your pathetic potions skills are sufficient for"

_Click._

"brewing so complex a potion? Do you actually think that _you_ could possibly help a Potions master like myself? You really are as boastful, as full of yourself as your father, Potter!" Snape paused in his tirade, staring at the phone in confusion as he listened to the dial tone on the other end. "Potter? Potter!" He glared at the telephone. "Damned muggle contraption."

* * *

The assume line is taken from _The Silence of the Lambs_, and roughly goes, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me." 

Review Responses:

_Miliardo Peacecraft_: Yup, others will be coming, although probably not for a little while (although Remus will be sooner). I can promise that at least Ginny and Neville will be coming...and perhaps many more.

_DuShuZhi:_ I am sorry about the length of the chapters, but I'm afraid they're probably mostly going to stay this length. I try to make sure that a major plot point occurs every chapter, but if I tried to do more, I'm afraid I'd never find the time or energy.

_r h 4 ever_: Here's a bit of the "my life is worse than yours" talk; more to come in future chapters!

_Kaaera_: Just started Spring Break? I'm jealous; mine just ended, so it's back to the salt mines for me.

_Rabid-Reader-1_: I hadn't actually considered the idea of Harry using a Time Turner again; I don't think he will, if only because he's already in tip-top shape, and because he's still not sure what exactly he's expected to do against this demon, if he can't kill it.

_ficfan_: Harry is having an awful lot of emotional breakdowns, isn't he? What I was trying to show was that, in order to defeat Voldemort he became a "predator and unfeely," and it helped him to succeed, but in the aftermath he has to learn to live again as a human being. He has a lot of pent-up emotions to let out in order for that to happen.

_Silver Angel 7_: I'm going to consider the prophecy as having already been fulfilled by Harry's first defeat of Voldemort; this time around, other than the prophecy which foretells Odiminis' coming, there's nothing to say that anyone in particular is destined to face him.

_Lady Smoothie_: I'm glad you like it! The Harry/OC idea is a good one, and I have closely considered it, but I'm afraid that as of right now I lack the gumption to try to create my own character in this fic. As to the Sirius back to life idea, while I am quite annoyed at Sirius' death and would rather he still be alive, I have to admit that one of my pet peeves in fiction works (especially the TV show Alias, but I won't get into _that_...) is when they bring supposedly dead people back to life. I mean, if someone's dead, let them be dead, for heaven's sake! Er, sorry, didn't mean to rant...anyways, I think the story would also get a bit too clogged if I tried to add a "Sirius back from beyond the veil" plotline as well, unfortunately.

Also thanks to bandgsecurtiyaw, cheryse (I'm glad you like it! Thanks for the helpful review!), Tmctflyboy, Wickedmoemoe, ShAdOwArIa, gazette, Windy River, A-man, Charmina, HecateDeMort, Night-Owl123, your biggest fan, Lunatic Pandora1 (yes, things are getting painful, aren't they?), Musicstarlover (thanks for reviewing!), and Sydney for your reviews! They're much appreciated!

* * *

Please, please review!


	18. Howl, Part 1

Note: I am so, so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! There's no excuse, except for the sad fact that I've been having some very stressful weeks in college for the past month or so. I'll try to make sure a delay like this doesn't happen again. I have every intention of finishing this story; it's all planned out in my head, and I just have to get it onto my laptop.

Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed. It's appreciated!

Also, please let me know (in a review – wink wink, nudge nudge) whether it would be too cliché for Spike to be a part-Malfoy in heritage.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

* * *

Chapter 17: Howl, Part 1

The odd group of wizards and Scoobies congregated in the library after school as seemed to be their wont. Giles explained their usual apocalypse routine to their guests (research in the library, eat jelly donuts, and save the world), and the three wizards went into a corner to confer about something or other as Buffy and Giles faced off for a spar, Willow and Oz got into research-mode and settled down amidst several veritable mountains of books, and Xander went for snack food.

For the first few minutes, Harry found the loud, painful sounds of Giles getting pummeled to be a bit distracting, but since the Scoobies (as they liked to call themselves) ignored the noises as typical, he directed his attention back to his Headmaster and Potions Professor.

"You've completed the Wolfsbane, then, Severus?" Dumbledore was asking.

"It just needs two more hours to finish thickening, then it will be ready to be drunk," Snape replied sourly. He was still sore over having been forced to work in such insufficient settings as Giles' house.

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Well, my boy, should you or I take the potion to Hogwarts?" he asked cheerfully, a twinkle in his eye.

Harry's head shot up. "Is Remus at Hogwarts?" he asked slowly, his eyes haunted.

Dumbledore twinkled. "I do believe he said that he would make sure to be there today."

"I'll take it, Headmaster, if that's all right with you," Harry said slowly.

"Of course, dear boy."

The older wizards turned their conversation to a different topic (something to do with Gilderoy Lockhart, although Harry couldn't imagine why, since the wizard had been a full-time patient at St. Mungos since Harry's second year at Hogwarts), and he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Despite his initial eagerness to take the potion to his only remaining father-figure, Harry's feelings about the idea were mixed. He loved Remus, of course; the werewolf had always supported him, had always cared about him when it seemed no one else had. Still, there was a tension between them, and had been ever since Sirius' death. It wasn't antipathy; there was no anger or dislike or anything remotely similar between them. Nevertheless, there was a feeling of wrongness, a sense that something between them was not right and might never be again.

Harry attributed it to the fact that he had basically murdered his godfather, Remus' best friend - but only after he was responsible for the death of both of his parents, Remus' other close friends. Remus certainly had the right to want to stay away from him, for his own protection.

Remus attributed the distance between them to the fact that he didn't deserve to be close to Harry; not after he had felt that shamefully strong desire, after Sirius' death, to try to take his place in Harry's life as a sort of replacement godfather - a desire that he knew was disrespectful to Sirius' memory; not after his bestial behavior in the last battle, when he had hunted down and destroyed Peter Pettigrew like the rat he was, despite Wormtail's attempt at self-redemption when he took a curse meant for Harry - or perhaps even because of it. All of his old friends from Hogwarts were dead; all of them dead for Harry. They protected him with their lives, risked everything for him, loved him as he deserved to be loved. And what did Remus do? Nothing. Nothing. He was alive, and they were dead. He didn't deserve Harry, and so he wouldn't allow himself to get close.

Harry had only seen Remus three or four times since the last battle, and all of their conversations had been stilted or awkward. Perhaps this time would be different.

"Ha!"

He was interrupted from his musings by Willow's excited exclamation. He looked up in time to see Buffy whack Giles with a particularly strong blow to the head, which he failed to avoid because of his distraction at Willow's cry. The librarian blinked dazedly several times as Buffy said, "Giles! I'm so sorry!" and carefully led him to sit down.

"I'm all right," he protested, although he was clearly still dazed. "Willow, did you have something you wanted to tell us?"

"What?" she asked, looking a bit mortified at having such an outburst. "I mean, oh yeah, I think I found something."

The odd assortment of people gathered closer. "What is it, child?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

Her eyes quickly scanned the old text on the table in front of her. "It's a reference to the rise of a demon from Odiminis' dimension – one of his underlings. It's a bit unclear about when it happened except that it was a long time ago. The powers sound exactly like what we'll be facing, though – attracting evil, being able to take power evil beings as part of itself, although I assume it was on a lesser scale than what Odiminis will be capable of."

"Does it say how the demon was destroyed?" Giles asked eagerly.

"Yes..." she trailed off, running her finger under a line. "It says, 'The Great Demon ravaged the countryside, driving people to destroy their own crops, to burn their homes, and to slaughter each other. It drove great countries to wars without purpose, and seemed to grow in size and power with every death. It sent a great Plague to ravage the lands, using rats and other malicious rodents to extend the evil and its influence over the Great Continent. Finally, the Knights of Light rallied their spirits and drove the foul Being to an island protected by great magicks. A Great Mage was called upon to use his great Powers, and in a feat which killed him, he managed to drive the Island 'neath the waves. So perished the Most Terrible Being every to walk this earth, trapped under the sea on the Great Island of Atlas.' Oh dear."

"Island of Atlas..." Harry murmured. His eyes widened. "Not Atlantis? I always thought that was a myth!"

"Apparently not," Snape said dryly. However, he, too, looked a bit pale around the gills.

Xander raised his hand. "Umm, sorry if I'm being really dumb, but I don't think we have an island to sink anywhere around here."

"Indeed not," Giles sighed.

"It wouldn't do much good anyways," Harry said. "Remember, this was a lesser demon. Odiminis could apparate off an island before he could be destroyed, even if we were to put anti-apparation wards on it."

"How so?" Dumbledore asked.

"At the end of his life, Voldemort was powerful enough to bypass the Hogwarts anti-apparation wards," Harry explained. "Even if we could create wards that strong, it would magically exhaust us for probably a year, by which time Odiminis could have swum off."

"Well, there must be other ways," Giles said optimistically. "We only need find them."

"Yeah!" Xander said cheerfully. "Besides, if worse comes to worst, I still have that rocket launcher hidden in my basement."

"On second thought, the world is doomed," Giles sighed.

* * *

After the revelation that Odiminis could at least be destroyed, given a very powerful wizard (check), an island (no check), and a heavy supply of superglue (check – Xander was fairly certain that Cordelia had kept a large storage of the substance, ever since she was attacked by the bug guy from the Order of Taraka a while back), they found no more useful information that afternoon. Practically the moment the sun set, Buffy happily deserted the school, off to collect Angel and Spike and go patrolling.

The others stayed in the library, valiantly searching for another smidgen of information that might lend them hope, until at last, eyes gritty from squinting at ancient tomes and brain exhausted, Xander volunteered to go for pizza. He could have ordered one delivered, of course, but then he wouldn't get a chance to stretch his legs and relax his brain, which was still, after all this time, unused to such strenuous exercise. Harry seized on the excuse as well, and offered, "I'll go with; two's safer than one on the streets, after all."

So it was that, much to Xander's surprise, he found himself walking companionably down the dark street with the wizard.

"So, uh," he said, racking his mind for a good conversation starter, "I thought all you Brits were geeks and liked researching and stuff. Why'd you want to come with me?" _Oh, yeah, smooth, Xander. "All you Brits are geeks?" Yeah, that's a good thing to say!_

Fortunately, Harry just seemed amused by his _faux pas_. "I've gotten to be pretty good at research over the years, but it's never been my forte," he admitted. "I was always more of an action person, myself. My friend Hermi – my friend was always the researcher of our little group."

"Was?" Xander asked cluelessly. "What happened?"

Harry was silent for a long moment, and when Xander shot a glance at him he found that the other boy's mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyes were glinting.

Finally, "She was murdered."

Oh. "Oh. I'm sorry," he offered. They walked for several more minutes in silence before Xander said, "My best friend, Jesse, was killed the same day I found out about vampires and Buffy being the Slayer."

"What happened?"

"He was turned. We tried to go back and rescue him, and we though for a few, precious minutes that we had, and then we found out..." he choked up. Thinking about Jesse still hurt, even after all this time, so he always avoided talking about him. It was almost cathartic, though, he found, so he forced himself to continue. "I ended up having to stake him a few days later when he tried to kill Cordelia."

"It wasn't him," Harry said compassionately. "A vampire – it looks and sounds like your friend, but it's not. It's a demon in his body."

"I know that," Xander snapped. "Didn't make it hurt any less, though."

"But at least you had Buffy and Willow to help you get through it, right?"

"Yes," Xander said, all of his previous vitriol gone. "I don't know what I'd do without them. How about you?"

Harrry was spared answering when two forms burst at them from the darkness, fangs extended and faces hideously distorted.

* * *

Dumbledore and Giles were having a hushed conversation and Willow and Oz were still bent over the library tables, while Snape had gone back to Giles' house to finish the potion, when Xander and Harry returned and hour and a half after they had departed. Both boys were a bit the worse for wear, Xander with a black eye, bleeding scalp, and his shirt almost torn from his shoulders, and Harry with his hair even more disheveled than usual, although the pizzas were all in pristine condition.

"Good lord, what happened to you?" Giles asked, concerned, as he quickly took a pizza from Xander's arms and forced him into a chair. He hurried into his office and came back with a damp cloth and first aid kit. Dumbledore approached Harry, similarly concerned, but a good-natured glare from the younger wizard told him that his help was not needed.

"Vampires, both going there and coming back," Xander panted. He held his hand up to Giles' face so that the Watcher could see how his knuckles were bruised.

"Xander was very brave in fighting them," Harry added, remembering Xander's pride after he had dusted two of the vamps. "We ended up dusting six of them in all."

"It's strange for them to be out in such force," Giles mused.

"Not so strange," Dumbledore murmured. "Were the vampires heading any particular direction before they attacked you?"

"Yes," Harry replied, his eyes lighting in comprehension. "They were leaving town. I wonder if we were just too tempting a parting snack..."

"I don't understand," Willow said. "Why would the vampires be leaving town?"

"They're afraid," Oz said with dawning awareness. "They're afraid of Odiminis."

"But why?"

"I suspect it's because they know that he will destroy them, either by stealing their very essences to make himself stronger, or by destroying their ability to resist him, letting their most animalistic sides have free reign and pushing their already-limited self-control by the wayside."

With that cheerful idea consuming their thoughts, they sat down for pizza.

Thirty minutes later, Dumbledore said to Harry, "You ought to go meet with Severus now, Harry. You can go straight to Hogwarts from there, I trust?"

"Of course."

"Where are you going?" Willow asked.

"I just have an errand to run," he said vaguely. "I'll see you all later."

He blinked out of sight.

* * *

He reappeared in Giles' house in the living room. He followed the sound of a hissing cauldron up the stairs into, of all places, a bedroom. "You didn't," he said, amused, taking in the large cauldron perched on what could only be Giles' bed, and the Potions Master meticulously stirring.

"It was really the only place in the house suitable for such delicate work," Snape defended himself, his obsidian eyes gleaming in what might have been amusement.

"I'm sure."

Quickly and adroitly, Snape ladled a quantity of the potion into two goblets, then spelled both goblets to keep them from spilling. "See that they drink it at least six hours before the sun sets, Potter," he commanded.

Harry nodded, taking the goblets, and mentally summoned Allegra. The lovely phoenix appeared in the usual manner, settled on his shoulder, and whisked him away, leaving Snape behind muttering things like, "Overgrown turkeys" and "Just like a Potter to do things the flashy way."

* * *

Harry arrived in his old room in Hogwarts. He knew that with the time difference, it was only 5:00 a.m. at his school, but he had always enjoyed wandering around Hogwarts at night, or in the morning, when the air was at its freshest and the old castle at its most welcome. Allegra stayed on his shoulder as he slipped out of his room, feeling strange walking the halls this early in the morning without his invisibility cloak, even if he didn't need it. He had sealed the two goblets and shrunk them, then placed them in a pocket for safe keeping. Sensing that Harry was out for a casual stroll, Silas slithered from his usual concealed place around Harry's wrist to – strangely – curl himself around Allegra's leg. The phoenix merely looked at the serpent benignly before turning her attention back to the magical castle.

"_Sssilass_" Harry hissed. "_Are you truly comfortable there?_"

"_Of courssse,_" the snake replied in turn. "_The feathery one issss warm, and I enjoy being high enough to ssssee._"

"_Shall I asssk her to take you for a fly, then?_" Harry asked, amused, knowing what Silas' reaction had been when he had offered to fly with him in the past.

"_No!_" he protested immediately. When he realized that his human was laughing at him, the snake grumbled, "_Jussst__ keep walking, sssstupid human_."

It was to be an interesting morning.

* * *

First, when walking past the Ravenclaw dormitories, he had the misfortune to run into Sybil Trelawney, who had apparently taken to roaming the halls at night looking for someone, anyone, to listen to one of her prophecies.

Her eyes widened with delight when they fell on her favorite target.

"Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed. "It gives me great pleasure to see you...great pleasure, and great pain knowing – "

Harry cut her off before she could go on her usual spiel. He didn't know why – maybe it was knowing he would see Remus shortly – but he was feeling unusually unreserved this morning, quite a change from his typical reclusive unsociability.

"Professor Trelawney!" he interrupted. "Just the woman I was looking for!"

"Really?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yes, indeed. You see, I had a question to ask of your Inner Eye," he said earnestly.

"Go on," she urged.

He leaned in a bit, as if to tell her a secret, and whispered, "If a fraudulent Divination professor makes a prophecy, and there's no one around to hear it...then did it ever really happen? Let's find out." He quickly strode away, hoping to make his mistake before she recovered her senses from his (admittedly lame) insult.

"You are going to DIE!" she wailed. "I can see it now! You jest, but just you wait, Potter..."

He sighed with relief at leaving the old bat behind.

* * *

His next encounter, as he strolled past the Gryffindor dorms – his old home – was his Head of House, Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter?" she asked in surprise. "What on earth are you doing – What is _that_ on your shoulder!"

Allegra bristled her feathers at being referred to as "that," but calmed herself when Silas hissed at her in annoyance (Harry didn't know whether they actually understood each other, or whether they were just kindred spirits at heart).

"This is Allegra, Professor," Harry said politely. "She and I are bonded."

To his surprise, the Deputy Headmistress did not continue her surprised sputtering. "I see...I can't say that I'm too surprised, Potter, although I would have thought she would have come to you later in life." She peered closer at the phoenix, then, as if she still couldn't see properly, she stepped closer, until she was close enough that she could reach out and touch her. "She is very lovely, Potter," she murmured, her face losing its typical stern expression as she admired the fire bird.

Of course, Allegra puffed up in pride at such a compliment, sending out a lovely trill, and McGonagall's face relaxed into a genuine smile. She sighed as she stepped back a bit so she could look Harry in the face. "Well? What are you doing here, Potter? Aren't you supposed to be basking in Californian sunlight right now, and not wandering around Hogwarts at this devilish hour?"

"I'm just delivering some Wolfsbane Potion, Professor," Harry explained. "I got here rather early and thought that a stroll might be nice."

"Very well, Harry," she said. "Have a good time – but don't cause any mischief!"

"I won't," he said reassuringly, and turned to walk away when her voice called him back.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?"

"When you see that senile, immature, batty old Headmaster, tell him to get his arse back here within the week, or I'll pull this castle down around his ears – and all the other _real_ professors will help me do it!"

Harry could only blink in astonishment as she turned on her heel and stalked away in a remarkably good imitation of Snape's walk.

* * *

The last straw – and fortunately, the last professor he encountered before reaching Luna Lovegood's private quarters – was running into, of all things, a white light so blinding, so appalling, so atrocious, that it could only come from one source, a terrible source, one so terrible, so disgusting, so disturbing, that it was supposed to have been locked up in a psychiatric ward, never to emerge again... Gilderoy Lockhart.

Suddenly Professor McGonagall's previous comments made complete sense. He'd known Dumbledore to be irresponsible and entirely too forgiving before, but this...this was an offense almost beyond forgiveness.

Harry Potter had, in recent years, become a young man known for his stoicism, his self-possession in practically any circumstance (except when faced with rabid fans and lustful girls), and his ability to at least act unfazed no matter how terrible the catastrophe occurring. However, that same stoicism, self-possession, and impressive acting ability vanished after only one glimpse of Gilderoy Lockhart's infamous smile.

"Dear Merlin," he blurted.

Lockhart laughed, that obnoxious, fake laugh Harry had so come to hate five years ago. "Not quite, my boy, not quite! No, not Merlin – his teeth weren't nearly this pretty! Ha ha! No, it is I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Potions Professor extraordinaire and winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming smile seventeen years in a row... or was it seven? Ten perhaps? No, wait, who am I? Merlin, did you say? That name sounds awfully familiar?" He blinked vacantly at his horrified ex-student. They had actually let him out of St. Mungos like _this_? "Say – you look familiar. I know! I saved you from the terrifying hinky punk of Sussex, didn't I? Or wait – did I brew a lifesaving potion for you that has put you eternally in my debt?"

He flashed another smile. It was just enough of an impetus. Harry broke and ran like his life depended on it.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Ulric the Oddball said, turning his vague, unfocused gaze to the person standing in front of his frame. "Here to see Miss Lovegood, are you?"

Harry was panting a bit from his unexpected escape, but, after checking that most of his mental faculties seemed to still be in tact, regained most of his former composure. "Yes...is she in?"

"Yes, yes, I'll just go inform her you're here, shall I?"

Only seconds after the portrait disappeared, the door swung open, and Harry came face to face with a visage that haunted him in his dreams. He smiled gently at her. "Hello, Luna."

"Hello, Harry," she said, her voice still dreamy as it had always been. "Please, come in."

He entered uncomfortably.

"Have you brought my potion for me today?" she asked.

"Er, yes," he said, extracting one of the goblets, enlarging it, removing the protective spells, and handing it to her.

She stared at its contents for a moment before closing her eyes and drinking it down.

"You know, I think the worst part about becoming a werewolf is having to put up with that taste," she said airily.

Harry swallowed heavily. He refused to allow himself to react as he wanted to that statement – to stare incredulously at the scar which disfigured her face, to exclaim that she would never be able to hold a respectable job, to hug her and to tell her how sorry he was.

Instead, all he managed was to stammer, "I'm sorry, but Professor Snape says to change the taste would remove its effectiveness."

She blinked at him. Her eyes seemed to lose some of their glazed look, and she sighed, "Oh, Harry, it was a joke." Her gaze when she looked at him was pitying.

"Oh. Right," he said, embarrassed.

She pursed her lips and looked away. "You should take Professor Lupin his potion," she said.

Despite himself, he leapt at the excuse to leave. He felt terrible that being in Luna's presence made him so uncomfortable, but seeing her like _this_ reminded him of everything he had failed to do, the people he had failed to save.

"Right," he said again. He walked quickly to the portrait and pushed it open. Not looking back, he whispered, "I'm sorry," and left quickly, shutting the door behind him without waiting for a reply.

Thus, he didn't hear her say behind him, "Oh, Harry Potter, what are we to do with you? Silly boy."

* * *

Taking into account the moving stair cases, it took Harry nearly twenty minutes to walk from Luna's bedroom, which she had been given to recover in after her injury and which she had kept ever since, to Remus' permanent private suite. The portrait of a matronly old woman smiled benevolently at him and opened without him even requesting it, and he stepped inside cautiously.

Remus was sitting in the living area, a book perched on his knee. His hair had grayed since Harry had last seen him.

He looked up quickly, though, his mellow amber eyes crinkling at the corner in genuine welcome as his keen hearing picked up Harry's stealthy footsteps.

"Harry," he said warmly, standing quickly and wincing as he did so.

"Remus?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, Harry, just getting a bit old," he said.

Harry was unconvinced by that excuse. After all, Remus was the same age as Snape, who was as hearty as Harry could ever remember him being. Still, he didn't feel that he had the right to protest.

They stood awkwardly for several minutes, neither looking at the other.

"Do you have the Wolfsbane?" Remus finally inquired, disappointed that Harry had not initiated a conversation, and disappointed in himself for not asking any of the more important questions that were constantly flitting about his brain.

"Yes," Harry said quickly. In a matter of moments he handed the goblet to Remus.

Remus drank the goblet down quickly, eerily reminding Harry of the first time he had seen the older man do the same thing, back in his third year. Of course, he hadn't known how important Remus would become to him, Remus and Sirius...

"The taste never improves, does it?" Remus asked, a faint smile on his face that told Harry that he, too, was remembering that time four years ago.

Harry swallowed. "I suppose not."

They both studiously avoided looking for each other for another long moment.

"You are – "

"You're - "

They broke off simultaneously after trying to speak at the same time.

"Go ahead," Remus urged him.

"You're doing all right?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'm fine," he said defensively. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Harry said quickly.

Silence.

"Well, I'd better – "

"Well, you'd better – "

They stopped again.

"I'd better go," Harry said again.

"All right," Remus said helpessly.

Allegra chirped unhappily, not liking her companion leaving things this way, but through their bond Harry's feelings were clear.

"It was nice seeing you, Harry," the werewolf said quietly.

"And you," Harry returned. He hesitated. "I'll bring the Wolfsbane by again tomorrow."

Remus smiled. "I can't wait."

Harry smiled oh-so-briefly in return before he disappeared in flames.

Remus stared for a long time after at the spot his best friend's son and other best friend's godson had just deserted, and, for the first time in a long time, felt like maybe, just maybe, there was hope for their relationship.

Somehow, it had never occurred to him to be surprised that Harry had a phoenix.

* * *

In Latin, Atlantis literally means "of Atlas."

I know the amount of Remus in this chapter is disappointing, but there will be much more of him to come. I just wanted to introduce him here.

Review Responses:

_Lunatic Pandora1_: I would tell you who the werewolf is since you don't know but...why ruin the surprise? Just wait till next chapter, and find out with the Hogwarts troop! (If you really want to know, look at the response to Miliardo Peacecraft below).

_Miliardo__ Peacecraft_: So much for school not burning me out, eh? Here's Remus, and look forward to some Oz next chapter.

_Evergreen Sceptre_: I'm afraid that the Dumbledore/Snyder bit was a joke.

_Meggplant_: Thanks for your great review! It gave me a glowy feeling inside... Don't worry, Harry _will_ remain shipless!

Thanks also to everyone else! I would list names like usual, but I want to get this out tonight! Look for another update soon, I hope!

**

* * *

**

**Please review!**


	19. Howl, Part 2

Author's Note: Well, I'm not sure what the right excuse is to use. Of course, there's the "my dog ate my laptop" one, or Buffy's "I've recently developed carpal tunnel syndrome and can tragically no longer hold a flashlight—er, type" one, but neither is true. The "I thought HBP was terrible and it took me a long time to get over how annoyed I was by the end of it" one is closer to the truth, but, as I never intended to use HBP in my story, it's a bit phony. No, the only excuse I can offer you is laziness (and some rather extreme writer's block), and the only apology I can give is a sincere one accompanied by the over-used promise that I'll try to update again as soon as I can, but I don't know when that'll be.

Thanks so much to everyone who's told me what they thought about this fic. I _will_ finish it eventually, I promise.

This chapter is very rough and unbetaed. I wanted to get it up as soon as it was done.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Buffy or Harry Potter franchises.

* * *

Chapter 18: Howl, Part 2

Buffy supposed, the next night, that it was only to be expected if her carefully-laid plans would go entirely wrong. Of course, it was Giles' fault for trying to make her be planning-girl. She was action-girl, or maybe demon-slaying-gal, but she was definitely not problem-solving-girl.

First, her attempt to subtly kidnap Harry went entirely wrong, mostly because "subtle" wasn't a word in the Slayer's vocabulary. Her casual invitation of, "Oh, Harry, Angel, Spike and I are going to go kill some vamps. Wanna come?" had successfully sparked his interest, although he raised an eyebrow skeptically at her too-sweet tone. Then, though, he tried to insist that they visit the library and talk to Dumbledore and Giles before going, which was, of course, exactly what Buffy was trying to prevent, since Oz was currently locked up in said library exploring his inner beast. When she argued that they were burning moonlight, Harry rolled his eyes and told her to go without him, if he was hindering her. He would go to the library on his own.

Well, she couldn't have that, so she informed him in all seriousness that he really didn't want to go there right now, as Giles and Snape were alone in the library for the night "…and they claim they're going to be 'researching,' but if you ask me, there's more to that tension between them than hatred." At Harry's clueless look, she leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "I suspect there's some hanky-panky going on. I got to see Giles what Giles was like when he was young and hormone-crazed a while back, and that's just how he looks when he's around our resident potions professor. Now, if you're really that eager to see Snape nake – " fortunately, she didn't need to finish the rather disgusting imagery, since Harry had taken off in the direction of Angel's mansion so quickly that she almost thought he had apparated.

Five minutes spent listening to Spike and Harry bicker while on patrol were almost enough to convince her that she had made a terrible mistake. She didn't know exactly what Harry had against the vampire (she could think of any number of things about Spike that irritated her), but whatever it was brought out a vicious side of the boy-who-lived that she hadn't realized he had. Being able to walk side by side with Angel, though, patrolling together like they always used to, was pure bliss.

"So you won't even let me have a taste?" Spike whined at Harry, flashing fangs. "It would be quite the feather in my cap, you know, being able to say that I'd drunk from Harry Potter."

"I would threaten to stake you, by saying that it would be quite the feather in _my_ cap to be able to say that I'd slain 'Spike'," Harry snarked, seemingly unconscious of the blue energy that crackled along the fingers of both hands, silent proof of his anger, "but in reality the only person who'd be impressed would be Malfoy, and he's sadly rotting in Azkaban where he belongs."

Spike stopped abruptly, his interest plain. "Malfoy? You wouldn't happen to be talking about Lucius Malfoy, would you?"

"He and his son, Draco," Harry said with vindictive pleasure.

"And there goes the last of the Malfoy line," Spike said mournfully. "Bloody wankers, what were they doing, ruining the family name by getting caught?"

The wizard raised an eyebrow in interest. "Malfoy mentioned you once, but frankly I thought he was just boasting. You don't mean to tell me that you're really William of the Bloody Poetry, do you?" he asked incredulously. Seeing Spike's fury, he gave a short bark of laughter.

"What's this I hear about Spike and poetry?" Buffy called from behind them, enjoying the sight of the obnoxious vampire getting so worked up.

"By Merlin! Malfoy used to boast about how there'd once been a Malfoy who was a pathetic wannabe poet who couldn't woo a woman if his life depended on it, who was turned and became one of the most vicious vampires in Europe," Harry explained. He examined the vampire closely, and under his scrutiny Spike actually turned red with anger, then vamped out and moved as if to attack him. Harry pointed his wand at the vampire and warned, "Don't even think about it. You've heard of what I can do to your kind." Spike froze. "Very good. Now stay still for a moment." Harry continued his slow consideration of the vampire, walking all the way around and taking him in from head to toe, before finally standing in front of him again. He nodded to himself as if he'd come to a conclusion about something.

"What was that!" Buffy demanded.

Harry looked Spike in the eye. "You're no Malfoy," he said. "For one thing, your hair's bleached, and it's a mostly-natural color for the Malfoys. Your face is shaped about right, but you're too ascetically thin. Plus, while you've got the Malfoy's do-whatever-it-takes-to-be-on-the-winning-side attitude down, you lack the malice." He smirked a little, a strange look on his face. "Why, even as a vampire, you're almost like a puppy dog compared to them."

With that final parting shot, Harry strode off further into the cemetery without looking back, Buffy and Angel following in confusion, and Spike standing stock-still in a moment of horrified shock before running after him. "Potter! What d'you mean, I'm not a Malfoy!"

* * *

"Rupert?"

Giles looked up from his book at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. He knew this was Dumbledore's last night in Sunnydale, since apparently his staff back at Hogwarts was threatening to tar and feather him, rip his fingernails out, draw and quarter him, and break every bone in his old body if he did not relieve his substitute potions professor of his job immediately. He suspected that Albus would have required in his usual light-hearted manner to such threats, since they were, after all, long distance, had not both Harry and Severus menacingly advanced on him, wands drawn and eyes narrowed, and loudly and clearly informed him that they would see the threat carried out, if he continued to allow "that bloody menace to our bloody society" to be within thirty leagues of Hogwarts. The rare and frightening sight of the potions master and the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Kill-Voldemort working together for a common goal was enough to cow even the sturdiest spirit. In other words, Albus Dumbledore quaked in only-mostly mock fear and then acquiesced more or less gracefully.

Giles would miss the old man, even if he was a bit bonkers. "In here, Albus!" he called.

The voices were enough to aggravate the contained werewolf, who immediately began thrashing and howling in the book cage, throwing his entire body weight against its walls in his mindless need to escape. He grew even more violent at the sight of the frail, undoubtedly tasty old wizard as he walked toward the librarian, who had cautiously lain his hand upon the tranquilizer gun when he saw the wolf's upset behavior.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he caught sight of Oz's alter-ego. "Oh, dear. One of you is a werewolf?" he inquired lightly.

"Yes, Oz," Giles confirmed.

As if in response to his name, the Oz-wolf snarled in rage.

Realizing that the werewolf seemed to behave even more furiously when surrounded by people and forced to hear the sound of their voices, Albus drew Giles away deeper into the library. It was for this reason that neither noticed that the hinges of the cage were beginning to rattle loosely and that the werewolf was redoubling his attempt to escape upon hearing the reassuring noise.

"I assume there was some reason that you did not see fit to inform us of this?" Dumbledore inquired.

Giles shot a glance at the cage, then returned his attention to the wizard. "We didn't mind you knowing, of course, professor, but we were afraid of how Mr. Potter might respond."

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his face clearly revealing his surprise.

"Well, yes," Giles said, a bit flustered by Dumbledore's response. "When he first came here, he told us about how he had killed werewolves, and we assumed..."

"Ah," Dumbledore said in comprehension. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. The werewolves Harry killed were a regrettable loss...but nearly all of them had chosen, _in their human state_, to support Voldemort. They were not forced to attack a school of children while in their animalistic state, they chose to do so. They suffered the consequences. The few others who _were_ forced, who Voldemort used his powers on, were a terrible loss, but we were at war, and there was no way to distinguish between the willing and unwilling werewolves. Harry did what he had to."

"I don't see how I'm wrong, though, Albus," Giles protested. "I wouldn't blame him for disliking werewolves after such a traumatic encounter."

"Harry doesn't dislike werewolves, Rupert," Dumbledore told him. "In fact, Harry has proven himself to be incredibly open-minded about the merits of all manner of creature in his short life. He has befriended house elves, earned the respect of the goblins, and is learning to deal with the concept of a vampire with a soul, all because of the goodness of his heart. He has a remarkable capacity for love. In fact, you couldn't be more wrong, about Harry disliking werewolves. One of his few remaining close friends was infected in the last battle, and, most importantly, his surrogate godfather has been a werewolf since long before Harry was born. Harry loves him dearly."

Giles looked rather embarrassed. "It seems that, once again, I have underestimated Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore was amused. "I won't hold it against you; you aren't the first to have done so, and won't be the last. I only regret that your mistake has caused Mr...actually, I've never caught Oz's last name. Anyway, this misunderstanding has caused Oz some excess pain, since if we had known of his malady, we would have provided him with wolfsbane."

"Wolfsbane? Is that a potion of some sort?"

"Indeed; it is a potion which has the effect of causing the werewolf to keep his human mind during the transformation. Alas, it must be drunk all three days of the full moon, so we shan't be able to help your young friend till next month. Professor Snape is at Hogwarts delivering the wolfsbane to some of the people living there right now."

"Anything that would help in the future would be lovely; we're forced to just keep the tranquilizer handy - " Giles patted the gun by his side " - just in case he gets loose."

"Really? How peculiar," Dumbledore observed. "May I?" he indicated the gun, taking it gingerly from the watcher. "I've seen these devices before, a long time ago, but I've never held one, nor tried to understand how they work." He turned it over in his hands, feeling along its length as if exploring a new toy. There was one part that seemed designed to be pulled on, so he did. There was a gentle _thwack_ sound. "How delightful. Rupert, I…Rupert?"

Giles blinked dazedly at Dumbledore for a moment before returning his stricken expression to the dart protruding from his shin. The only reason Giles was not unconscious quite yet was the lucky fact that the tranquilizer dart had struck the bone in his shin, preventing him from taking the full dosage (which was roughly enough to knock out a small elephant or even a Dursley).

"Dumbledore," he groaned, leaning laboriously forward to pull out the dart, when whatever he might have been about to say was cut off by the frightening sound of the cage finally having had enough, and yielding to the violent attack of its occupant. The werewolf came tearing out, intent upon attacking the man who had tried to restrain him. "Good lord," he muttered, fighting the sedating effects of the tranquilizer long enough to force himself to his feet to face the raging onslaught. He had just enough time to remind himself that he must do whatever it took to avoid being scratched, when the heavy weight of the dark creature was upon him.

"Dear Merlin," Dumbledore exclaimed, rather more shocked at both the fact that he had just shot Rupert and that a werewolf _sans_ wolfsbane was running loose in a school library than a man of his age and with his experience should have been.

"Al-bus!" Giles shouted, holding both the werewolf's front claws away from his face but quickly losing strength. "Shoot! Him!"

Dumbledore quickly aimed the gun at the werewolf, now that he knew where the dart would emerge and how to shoot it, and quickly pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Re-load!" Giles yelped, now lying on his back with the werewolf on top of him, lunging at his face with his awesome teeth.

"Reload," Dumbledore muttered, fumbling at the rifle for a long moment before abruptly dropping it and whacking himself on the forehead in disgust. "Are you, or are you not a wizard?" he demanded of himself, then stood, pulling out his wand in a smooth, majestic movement, and sending the werewolf flying across the room until it slammed hard into a wall. The beast was barely dazed, and surged to his feet again, only to yelp and dive to one side as a chair came sailing at his body. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, then he gave another flick of his wrist, and one of the large tables in the library went flying at the werewolf. There was a loud _thump_ as it impacted, stunning the werewolf, before Dumbledore moved his wand in several complicated patterns, turning the table until it was pinning the werewolf helplessly to the wall, then turning the table to silver to prevent him from trying to struggle against it, and at last welding the table to the wall, thus creating a secure, albeit uncomfortable, cage for the wolf.

Once finished with his task, Dumbledore hurried to Giles' side, turning the now-unconscious man over and frantically searching him for bleeding wounds. Finding none, he sat back on his heels in relief. "Rupert?" he asked gently, lightly slapping the watcher on the cheek and watching him for his response.

"Hmmmm," Giles mumbled, turning on his side as his face relaxed into a sleepy grin. "Go 'way, mum. 'Snot time to wake up yet." He let out a loud snore. He rolled over again, the expression on his face becoming pensive. "Slow down, luv," he murmured conspiratorially. "At least wait until we're on the police car!"

Of course, to Giles' everlasting dismay, it was just at that moment that Severus Snape arrived back at the library, delivered by Fawkes in a brilliant flash of light.

* * *

By the time Spike caught up to the rest of the gang, they were embroiled in a fight against a small group of vampires. "Well, this is just lovely," he muttered to himself, vamping out for the second time in five minutes. He took a stake from the pocket from his trench coat and slammed it into the heart of the nearest vampire, not missing the shocked, reproachful look it shot his way before it crumbled to dust. "Sorry, mate," he said. "A vamp's gotta do what he's gotta do." He looked up to see Harry capably taking on a vampire, and in a moment of maliciousness, waited till Harry was at a vital part of the fight before shouting, "Oi, Potter! Don't you die before we have a talk about that not-a-Malfoy comment!"

Harry's distraction earned him a solid punch to the face from the vamp he was facing before he managed to stake it. "Oh, don't worry, I won't!" he called back, kicking a vampire as he spoke. "But just as food for thought, you ought to know that you're more likely to be from a Hufflepuff family than a Slytherin one!"

Spike was so appalled by the very thought that he let a vampire – one weak enough to have been his own minion – to slug him.

* * *

"What's going on here?" Snape demanded, taking in the rather shocking sight of Dumbledore holding his wand in one hand and a gun loosely in the other, an unhappy werewolf pinned to a wall by a silver library table, the entire room in disarray, and Rupert Giles, unfortunate watcher extraordinaire, lying on the floor in a semi-comatose state, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of some imaginary person.

"Severus! You're back later than expected," Dumbledore prevaricated guiltily.

"I had to help clean up a mess in the dungeons," Snape said dismissively, his face bland. "What happened to Giles?"

"A slight accident with a tranquilizer dart and a werewolf," Dumbledore shrugged off the incident. "What kind of mess?"

"Oh, just helping pick some fake teeth up off the ground and lugging a deboned substitute professor to the infirmary," Snape said airily, a gleam in his eye. "Who's the werewolf, and why didn't we know about him before?"

"It turns out that young Oz is a werewolf. As for why we didn't know, I'm afraid that young Rupert erroneously held Harry's past actions in battles against werewolves against him, and wished to hide Oz's condition from him," Albus informed his potions master, a gleam of his own in his twinkling blue eyes. "Now, was it a student who deboned and untoothed poor Gilderoy?"

"Albus! You didn't!" Snape exclaimed, looking from the mischievous and surprisingly vengeful Headmaster to the slumbering librarian. "And, no, it was not a student who did either. I have been informed that Filius was the reason for dear Gilderoy's new, less-than-blinding smile, while Minerva was responsible for his deboning. I believe she said something about it being fitting retribution for his own deboning of Mr. Potter's arm some years ago...?"

"I don't know what you are insinuating that I did to poor Rupert," Dumbledore said with quiet dignity, which was belied by the continuing twinkle in his cerulean eyes. "I presume you did something worse to Gilderoy than you have yet told me?"

"It is hardly my fault that the only skele-grow in my stocks at present are half-strength, and take twice as long, and cause double the pain," Snape sniffed.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said wryly.

"However, and I do believe I mentioned this to you before, Headmaster, if that cretin is not expelled from the dungeons in the next two days, the damage I cause him will be intentional...and permanent," Snape said menacingly. "And I am certain that you are aware that I have our resident boy hero's agreement to help me in my revenge should you fail to act in a timely manner."

The werewolf on the wall growled as if in consensus.

* * *

"So who exactly are these Mal-fies?" Buffy asked from her position perched atop a tombstone.

"A powerful wizarding family," Angel informed her, since Spike was too busy glaring at Harry to answer, and Harry was playing dumb. "I didn't know that Spike ever claimed connections to them..."

" 'Claimed connections to them', hmph," Spike mimicked scornfully. "I never claimed connections to anyone, peaches, and don't you forget it. No, my relation to the Malfoy family was always assumed, though."

Buffy blinked, and was for a brief moment overtaken by her snooty lady-self from Halloween a while back. "Wait – are you saying you thought you were the bastard son of a Malfoy?"

"Bastard is a terrible way to put it," Spike said indignantly. "Illegitimate. I thought I was an illegitimate Malfoy. A squib."

Buffy asked, "A squid?"

At the same time, Harry informed him, quite seriously, "Consider yourself lucky. Malfoys have never allowed a squib in the family, legitimate or illegitimate. It's a family curse."

"What are you saying?" Spike asked.

"I'm saying that any squib born of Malfoy blood is magically killed at birth," Harry said. "Keeps them from having to worry about the continued purity of their blood after all that inbreeding."

"How do you know all this?" Spike asked suspiciously.

"Please," Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you know how many times I had to listen to Draco Malfoy's different boasts about his family's pure wizardness?"

"Now, wait," Buffy asserted, "Even I can't see how Spike's a squid. I mean, he looks kinda like a ferret or rat or something, but a squid?"

Harry gazed piercingly at the blonde vampire. "You're not going to start going on about how you've always acted the way you have because you thought you were a Malfoy and wanted to live up to their reputation, but you are really a kind-hearted person deep down inside, are you?"

"Bloody right I'm not," Spike snarled. He hesitated."OK, the hair might have been because of them...Those gits were always too poncy for my greatness, anyways. If I'd known we weren't related, I'd have enjoyed some of their blood, the berks."

"Good," said Harry. He gazed up at the sky, noting how it had begun to slowly lighten. "Now let's get to the library. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore about something."

"Now hold it!" Buffy exclaimed, hearing his plan. "Don't you remember what I told you about Snape and Giles?" she asked suggestively.

"Snape and Giles?" Angel repeated, wide-eyed. "_Snape_ and _Giles_!"

"Oh, now that's just wrong," Spike moaned.

Harry scoffed. "I don't think they're really up to anything, Buffy," he said. "And even if they were...in their own time and space..." he continued, looking faintly green, "they wouldn't be doing it in the school library, with the Headmaster present. Now, it really is important that I ask Dumbledore something, so let's go, shall we?"

"But...but..."

"Not buts, Buffy," Harry said sternly. "I don't know why you're trying to keep me away, but I'm going, and that's final."

"I'll sit this one out, thanks," Spike said, looking ill. "I wouldn't have come to help all you buggers out if I'd known you were this messed up."

"Shocking as it is, I'm with Spike on this one," Angel agreed with a shudder. "_Giles_ and _Snape_… C'mon, Spike, let's get back to the mansion, before I hurl."

"Vampires don't throw up!" Buffy called after them, her voice frustrated. She turned back to the wizard, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not as upset by the thought as I thought you were."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, it's a really weird, thought, but...a) I don't think they're actually together, and b) if they are, then that's all the better for them. Loathe as I am to say it, Snape deserves some happiness. If he finds it with Giles, well, I guess that's good for them."

She eyed him speculatively. "You know, there's more to you than I originally thought, Harry Potter."

He breezed by her. "I get that a lot."

* * *

Giles awoke after several long and marginally relaxing hours of sleep which he grudgingly admitted he really had needed – although not at the hands of a tranquilizer gun being aimed by an old coot, he asserted. He had had to put up with numerous annoying jeers from Snape, as well, which always put him in a bad mood. Thus, it was an unhappy watcher who opened the library door upon hearing a tentative knock – he wondered why she had knocked, since it was a private library, and could not know that she had insisted to Harry that they do so lest they walk in on a sight neither wanted to see.

"Buffy!" Giles frowned disapprovingly at his Slayer, disappointed that she had failed in her task for the evening, even if it had been rather pointless and counter-productive in the long run. "I thought we agreed that you would keep Harry from the library tonight!"

Harry, seeing the disheveled, drowsy, flushed watcher, decided that maybe he had been wrong about Snape's and Giles' relationship after all. "Err, I'm sorry to, uh, interrupt your uh _business_, Mr. Giles, and, well, I think you're rather, uh, mad, but, well, if this is what you and Professor Snape want, then, er, I guess I'm happy for you both, and uh you don't have to hide on my account, since Buffy obviously knows about it."

"My busin – what – Buffy!" Giles sputtered, turning bright red. "With Snape! What on Earth did you tell him!"

Snape sauntered up behind the flustered watcher. "Oh, Rupie, don't say that our night together meant so little to you! I was so touched when you said to wait until we reached the police car to perform our lascivious acts..."

"Dear lord, kill me now," Giles muttered, blushing and avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Giles!" Buffy shrieked. "I told you I never wanted to hear about what you did with my mom, ever again! What were you doing, telling Snape of all people?"

"Your mother?" Harry interjected, confused. "Giles and your mother are together? _And_ he and Snape?"

At the same time, Snape asked, "You and that witch are together? You sly dog!"

"Now wait just a minute – " Giles spluttered.

"I don't know why you're all so upset; Mrs. Summers is a very attractive woman," Dumbledore added, appearing seemingly from nowhere.

Needless to say, the tumult caused by this new (and disturbing) statement continued for quite some time.

In fact, it did not stop until after the sun had risen.

The cause was plain, and shocked everyone into silence the instant Buffy pointed it out.

The sun was up. The moon was gone for the day. There was still a werewolf pinned to the wall, mewling miserably.

Something was terribly wrong.

* * *

Please review!

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, they really brighten up my day. I'll do my best to get my act in gear and keep writing!


End file.
